


Monsters

by Separatist_Apologist



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: And my diseased brain was like, But we all get it, Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, I barely asked for it, I do feel a little shame, I'm aware no one asked for this, Multi, Sharing a Bed, Sort of a pre The Last Jedi all the way through post Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: Sequel Trilogy Era, To get back back at Kylo Ren?, WHY???, We all watched Hux say he was the spy, We saw it with our own two eyes, and look, and we were like, so here we all are, what if you wrote a multi-fic romance where the protagonist is in the rebellion, what???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 92,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Separatist_Apologist/pseuds/Separatist_Apologist
Summary: Why do all the monsters come out at night? Why do I sleep where I want to hide? Why do I run back to you like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?Ayva Bardak, weapons expert for the Resistance and the daughter of a wealthy Coruscant arms dealer, was committed to her mission of ending the First Order. General Armitage Hux saw nothing of value in the Resistance. When the two collide, they'll be forced to re-evaluate their entire world view.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 91
Kudos: 75





	1. Mad Woman

**Author's Note:**

> It's important to mention, right off the bat, that I recognize this is not a story for everyone. The OC is part of the Resistance and Hux is not, and questionable scenarios will play out that, for some people, might feel unethical (though to be clear, this isn't non-con and at no point will it ever be), from a moral standpoint. I hear your criticisms, in my mind. Honestly, Taylor Swift takes most of the blame for this: Folklore has me in my feelings. 
> 
> Secondly, the format for this story is told from a future in which the First Order is defeated, looking backwards at how the characters got there. I think this story could have benefitted from Hux's point of view but I could never figure out how to integrate that well. If there is interest, I'm happy to write an offshoot of his perspective during certain key events. 
> 
> Lastly, I hope anyone reading this genuinely enjoys it. It is completed, but un-edited, so it'll conclude.

_No one likes a mad woman_

_You made her like that_

_And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out_

_And you find something to wrap your noose around_

_And there's nothing like a mad woman_

\-----

Ayva Bardak stood in front of a full-length mirror as she pulled hot curling rollers from her hair, watching as her blonde hair fell into uniform spirals down her shoulder and vanished behind her back. Her face, carefully made up to look as though she wore nothing on it at all, stared back, empty with exhaustion. Green eyes drifted downward to the blue, off shoulder dress that clad her body. It was a dress from another time, practically a relic to her now. She tugged at the lace sleeves absently, taking in a slow breath.

_He should be here._

He wasn’t. She was alone in front of that mirror, preparing to speak before the Unified Republic tribunal. The trial of Armitage Hux. It had been a week-long trial with testimony from the lowliest administrator in the First Order all the way up to her, a Resistance hero in her own right. She’d watched the coverage, safely ensconced in her home-their home- on Naboo, with dread. It was salacious and dramatic, and in her estimation, completely overblown. The Unified Republic was looking for scapegoats while glossing over their own failures. No one could distinguish fact from rumor.

It would be Ayva’s responsibility to clear it up when it came to Hux. She, after all, knew him best in the end. Only she could wipe some of the blood from his reputation, a small thing, when all was said in done. Easier than the task that had been set before Rey. Ayva merely had to convince the Galaxy that at worst, Armitage Hux had been a man who followed orders. Rey had to convince the Galaxy Ben Solo, formerly Kylo Ren, was no longer a threat to public safety. 

“Chin up,” a familiar voice said from behind her. Ayva turned to find her oldest, and best friend, Rose, standing behind her, her jet-black hair loose around her pretty face. “Don’t let them forget who you are.”

“Who am I?” Ayva asked, accepting a hug from the much shorter woman.

“You’re Ayva goddaamn Bardak. They can’t take that.”

“You’re right. They can’t take _that.”_

They could, of course, take everything else. In some ways it felt like they had. She swallowed her bitterness as she left the apartment in Republic City with Rose. She met Poe on the crowded, noisy streets and the three walked to the old Senate temple where the tribunal would be held. They’d all lost so much and in the wake of their victory, power was scooped back up by the old guard, determined to put things back together exactly as they had been. Ayva’s questioning would be overseen by Ly’nna Baume, the former governor of Chandrilla’s Hanna City and Szábo, a man Ayva had known since childhood. He worked in finance and had, likely, helped support the many manufacturing facilities her father had owned and operated. Facilities she had spent the last two years of her life meticulously destroying.

Inside the meeting room, Ayva walked the length from the door to her desk silently, aware that every eye inside the packed room was locked on her. She was well-known to Coruscant, a native daughter that had rebelled long before anyone was aware there was anything worth rebelling over. She’d helped the planet join the rebellion, the last world she instigated before the final battle.

None of that interested them. She was the daughter of one of the wealthiest men the galaxy had ever known and had carried on a clandestine affair with the man the galaxy was trying to pin all of its problems on. Anything else about her started and stopped there. She drummed the pads of her fingers lightly against the wooden table she was seated at, once, then twice, and finally a third time before Baume and Szábo came out. They were seated in front of her, higher up so they could look down at her. She wondered who gave them the right to make these decisions. She supposed that the people did when they accepted their leadership.

“State your name for the court,” Szábo began the moment the room became silent, his voice booming through the high arches.

“Ayva Bardak.”

“Do you swear to honesty, at all costs, whenever possible?”

“I do.”

“You were a member of the organization known only as the Resistance, correct?”

“I was,” she agreed, hating how her voice sounded through the microphone. She kept her eyes cast down, afraid to look at anyone else.

“How did that come to happen?”

~ 10 years earlier ~

Ayva stood in nothing but a nightgown, her hair finally unbraided. Her body had been freed from the lace, tulle, and boning of the engagement dress. She was, finally, alone in her bedroom. It was big enough for an entire family to live in comfortably, with space to run from one end to the other and break a sweat. It was a cage, she thought bitterly, her eyes swimming with tears.

A girl being auctioned off to a man in the name of family wealth wasn’t a new concept, even on the more progressive world of Coruscant. The wealthy had continued the tradition long after the lower classes abandoned it. Most of the girls she’d studied with as a child had similar arrangements drawn up. Arranged marriages had been outlawed, technically, but the wealthy had a separate set of laws they abided by, and as long as no one complained, and no one died, it hardly mattered. It might have been a typical marriage for a resident of 500 Republica. 

To Ayva, there was nothing typical about it. Trich Maunder, to start, was in his mid-fifties. An age gap that large was always cause for some raised eyebrows. His first wife had died under mysterious circumstances- a fall from a balcony- and the general rumor was he, or someone under his employ, had shoved her.

All of that might have been forgivable, even to Ayva herself, were it not for his insistence they wed on her sixteenth birthday as opposed to the traditional eighteenth. Sheltered as she was, Ayva knew enough about what went on between men and women to understand that Maunder was looking for a woman he could be assured had never been touched by anyone but himself. It made her sick, and yet it was looming closer and nothing she could do would stop it. No one was willing to go up against her father on her behalf, and so tomorrow, the minute she turned sixteen, she’d be wed to Maunder and the book of Ayva Bardak would close permanently. Whatever happened to her would be Maunder’s problem and no one else’s.

The party was still going, outside her bedroom, though she had excused herself to turn in early. Coruscants wealthy would use any excuse to drink and eat on someone else’s dime. Her father, Varus Bardak, had spared no expense on this dinner, which would only be outdone by her wedding itself. It must have cost him several million credits, though Ayva didn’t want to truly consider the cost. It was not for her benefit. She was just the gift, wrapped up in all those credits, that Varus would give to Maunder in exchange for legislative policies that benefited his businesses or, if that failed, task forces willing to look the other way.

She slid under heavy, golden blankets, the light reflecting around crisp, white walls in a way that made her eyes hurt. She reached for a button and in an instant, the room went dark. It would be her last moment of respite and she planned to enjoy it.

The door opened just as her eyes had begun to shut; the figure illuminated by the light in the hall, was clearly not her father. She jerked upwards, afraid for a moment it was Maunder coming early. She fumbled for the light.

“Don’t panic!” An unfamiliar voice told her as the lights flipped on. It was a young man, his curly hair wild around a handsome, sharp face. He was dressed nicely, in fabric that to anyone looking, might suggest he had some sense of fashion and money as well. Ayva thought he looked out of place in them. His hair was too mussed, his brown eyes too mischievous, his hands too rough, to be the kind of man who wore that kind of cloth daily.

“I’m a friend. I’ve come with a message.”

“I have no friends,” she told him, her voice flat to her own ears.

“You do now. Senator Leia Organa has sent me to speak with you.”

“She’s not a Senator anymore,” Ayva reminded him petulantly. Leia had been outed as the daughter of Vader, losing her seat in resulting election.

“She’ll always be a Senator to me. She’s sent me with an offer.”

Ayva narrowed her eyes as the man sat casually on the edge of her large bed. “What kind of offer?”

He pulled a blaster from his tunic and tossed it between them. It was in pieces. Her fingers twitched.

“First: Can you help me repair my blaster?”

She reached for the barrel. “Depends. Are you going to shoot me with it?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m just useless with this kind of stuff.”

She pulled the pieces into her lap with a wide, sweeping motion. “It’s easy. You twist the barrel to the body, see there’s a piece that clicks. Then you’ll just jam this up,” she slammed the trigger, attached to the handle, hard into the body until she felt it snap into place. “You’re going to need a cartridge, too, or this is basically useless. Where did you get it, anyway? A T-21 light repeating blaster is pretty old. Finding cartridges for it is probably difficult.”

He was grinning ear to ear when she looked up. “I like old things, what can I say?” He told her, catching the. blaster when she tossed it back. “A little like you?”

“I don’t like old things,” she retorted darkly.

“And who could blame you? You’re a pretty girl Ayva. Smart, too. Capable, I would guess. I don’t think there’s any reason to waste all that on marriage. Senator Organa thinks so, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“Put on the wedding dress. Go to the temple. Let me handle the rest. You’ll be lightyears from Coruscant before the bridegroom ever knows you’re missing.”  
“I don’t want to marry him,” Ayva told him, looking down at the hands laying uselessly in her lap.

“And you won’t. I swear it.”

“What do I have to do in return?”

His grin shifted slightly, but his eyes were still smiling. “What do you know about rebellion?”

She didn’t sleep at all. Her excitement at the possibility of Poe Dameron’s words kept her up, just in case he came back. Part of her was sure she hallucinated the entire thing and Poe was just a figment of her terrified imagination. As light broke into her sterile sleeping space, Ayva decided, whatever he was or wasn’t, it was a sign. If Poe came back to rescue her, she would go with him and if he didn’t…well…maybe she could rescue herself. 

Her mother, with a retinue of maids, was in her bedroom the moment there was enough daylight to work in. Ayva clambered out slowly to give the appearance of sleep and reluctance. The latter was true.

“Are you excited?” Her mother asked, picking up a heavy section of Ayva’s long, blonde hair the moment Ayva sat in the rounded back chair in front of her vanity.

“No,” she replied honestly. No use lying now.

Her mother clicked her tongue in exasperation. “Ayva. It is time to come to terms with this marriage because it’s happening. It’s not all bad. Your father and I married in a similar manner.”

“What’s the age difference between you and dad again?” Ayva asked, knowing full well there was only five years. Her mother tugged, hard, against Ayva’s hair, but Ayva saw two of the maids exchange a smile at the barb.

“Fighting this is going to get you nowhere,” Zennia snapped, running a brush roughly through the tangled curls. “It’s going to get you hurt.”

“Because he’s dangerous?” Ayva asked defiantly.

“Everything you know about life could fit in a teaspoon,” her mother continued as she began the arduous task of curling Ayva’s hair. “You think a smart mouth is all you need, but Trich is a grown man with resources, with the capability to do more than anything I ever could. You are-"

“The kid you sold for money?” Ayva supplied unthinkingly. Her mother stepped around her and rang a slap hard against Ayva’s face. It made her eyes water and forced the room into an uncomfortable, heavy silence.

“I did nothing,” Zennia replied after a moment, ignoring her daughter, whose hand was touching her burning cheek. White hot resentment rose into her throat and she forced herself to swallow it, as she had done so often before. It wasn’t the first time one of her parents had struck her, though she was certain it would be the last.

She sat there silently as her mother twisted her hair upwards, until none of it was left hanging. A flurry of hands painted her skin, from her forehead down to her clavicle, so that ever available inch of skin looked flawless and glittered in the sun. Heavy, fake eyelashes reminded her that the time for crying had passed. In the mirror, she looked like a grown woman and nothing like herself. Apt, she thought angrily.

Getting into the dress was an ordeal she wouldn’t have wished on her worst enemy. In and out of the large skirt, buttoned up and unbuttoned to fix one piece of fabric here or pin something in there, or tighten the corset to give a more exaggerated appearance of curves. One maid, red faced from exertion, finally exclaimed, “My lady, I cannot create what does not exist!” It ended the charade of making Ayva seem womanlier.

Like her father, Maunder demanded modesty. Delicate, lace trailed across her arms in scratchy, beautiful sleeves and upwards, to the base of her neck, sheer and white that glittered from whatever had been rubbed on her skin. The fabric itself was heavy in spite of the warmth from outside, a multitude of silk layers, woven atop each other to create a skirt so heavy and huge that Ayva wasn’t confident it would fit through the door. Intricate beading detailed intricate flowers across the bodice and on the veil atop her head, adding unnecessary weight.

“Varus,” Zennia called once Ayva was finally dressed. “Isn’t she the most beautiful bride you’ve ever seen?”

He barely looked at his daughter, his eyes the same green of her own, fixed on the data pad in front of him. “Surely there has been a more beautiful bride somewhere,” he offered, his tone conveying how utterly bored he was with the entire affair.

She didn’t know what she expected. She was grateful the veil shrouded her face, or he would have caught her silent laughter.

Ayva and her father travelled the temple alone, as her dress took the seat her mother would have sat in. It was uncomfortable. Ayva had spent her life with the man and she couldn’t think of two things to say to him. Varus had been a cold and distant father prone to the occasional burst of violence, though most of her worst moments with him had been on the receiving end of his silence and not his hand. The only thing he had given his daughter was a too precise knowledge of weapons and how to wield them. Ayva outshone her older brother in this arena, though it would be Julius who inherited the empire. He was a natural salesman, charming and handsome and at the end of the day, making people feel good made money. What good was being a perfect shot if it was all she could do?

“Your mother discussed the…she discussed what to expect in marriage with you, correct?” He asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Yes,” Ayva agreed tonelessly. She didn’t want to talk about sex again.

“Good.”

It was the only words spoken between them. Once at the temple, Ayva was deposited into a large white room framed on all sides by large windows. A plush, cream colored chaise lounged against one of the windows while another vanity faced out another. She would wait here until she was called. She sighed, sitting so she could stare down at the city. Hundreds of feet below her, people moved through the streets, unconcerned with what was happening above them. She envied them. They had less, but she assumed they were happier.

One of the heavy, ornate doors opened and her mother appeared again, beautiful in a forest green formfitting dress. Her light brown hair was tied simply behind her head and Ayva envied her, too. She had managed to find happiness despite being married to a total stranger. Ayva had no such hopes for herself.

“About ten minutes, Ayva. We’re still seating people. Stay here, okay?”

Ayva nodded, her throat tight. The doors closed behind her mother and she was alone again. She pressed her head against the window, wishing it would break apart and send her flying to the ground.

The doors opened again. “You look like a pastry,” a familiar male voice laughed behind her. She turned to find Poe, brown eyes bright, smiling at her. She had been right about his clothing from the night before. He’d swapped it out for simple black pants, a leather jacket and a t-shirt. This time he looked like he belonged in his attire. He was holding a duffle bag that he tossed to her. She caught it easily. “If we’re going to get you out of here, you’ll have to change.”

She stood quickly, overwhelmed. “You came back.”

“Of course I did! C’mon, we don’t have a lot of time!’

She pulled the veil out, taking some the hair pins with it. Poe, his eyes half closed, helped unbutton the dress and Ayva tossed it on the chaise next to the veil.

“I didn’t know what you liked, but uh, I don’t think anyone will recognize you in it.”

Tight black pants and a cropped black shirt that showed too much of her stomach went on her body in moments. It was a thrilling for Ayva after a lifetime of being ordered to keep her body hidden. The shirt had a hood attached that, after she pulled her hair out, she hid underneath. The boots he’d brought were half a size too big, but she didn’t care. She stood in front of him, filled with hope, as he mock clapped.

“You sure do clean up bad. You look like a regular vagabond now. You ready?”

“Born ready,” she replied instantly, taking his hand. He pushed open the doors and the half ran down the large, marble stairs she’d miserably climbed up minutes before. Her heart pounded as they veered left instead of stepping into the main vestibule of the temple where someone might see her and recognize her. He grabbed her hand once they were on the streets and started running. She kept pace, despite the too big shoes, exhilarated.

“Where are we going?” She called.

“Home!”


	2. Walk Through The Fire

_There's nowhere to go but straight through the smoke_

_And the fight is all we know_

\-----

“Would you consider yourself a founding member of the Resistance, then?”

“No,” Ayva said quickly, recalling the day she met Leia, in those ridiculously oversized eyelashes and the too-big boots. “I was an early member, but the Resistance had been firmly established by then.”

“How would you describe your role within the Resistance?”

“I was a weapons specialist, and I trained recruits in hand to hand combat. Occasionally, later in the war, I participated in off-world missions that required on the ground combat support, along with the occasional diplomatic mission, though it was rare.”

“Can you describe the events that led to your first encounter with General Armitage Hux?”

Ayva sighed.

\-- --- --

Despite the rising sun in front of her, it was already oppressively hot. Ayva ran through a thick, leafy jungle on a path she’d taken every day before her, so often that the dirt path underneath her had been carved by her feet specifically. She’d never known humidity like this, so thick that she sometimes felt she could touch the air concretely. Nothing on the climate controlled Coruscant could have prepared her for the worlds she’d lived on since her escape, though this one was her least favorite. She preferred the cold, but she’d take the aridly hot over the humidity.

It didn’t stop her from running. That first morning run kept her focused and reminded her of the fight that loomed ahead. The First Order, once a fringe operation they fought skirmishes with on the outskirts of the unknown regions had expanded over the years, threatening the stability of the New Republic. Leia had spent more than her fair share of time trying to warn Senators of the doom that awaited them if they failed to deal with the First Order now, but it had been to no avail. The New Republic, still awash in the glow of victory over Vader and the Emperor, had a sense of invincibility that was undeserved. Planets had begun to fall to the First Order, though outside of the New Republic’s purview, which made it uninteresting to the New Republic. They’d let the First Order take the entire Outer Rim and begin encroaching into the Mid Rim before they ever admitted the threat that was sitting just outside their borders.

While Poe antagonized their military, Ayva kept her eyes on their technology. They had an expert designing their weaponry and she found herself both terrified and impressed anytime Poe dumped a new blaster in her lap or Paige Tico handed her new specs. Ayva considered herself fairly innovative when it came to modifying weaponry but building something new was outside her skill set. It seemed like, now more than any time since she’d joined, she dedicated a vast majority of her time training recruits and keeping herself sharp. Ayva had never been sent on a mission and she suspected that the quiet eight years she’d spent just working was about to end.

She was right. She emerged from the trees, drenched her sweat, her blonde hair pulled back into a high braid that started from her scalp and trailed down her back. She put her hands on her knees once she was back in the shade of the barracks, trying to catch her breath.

Poe, somehow always handsome no matter the weather, strolled over, that familiar bright, lopsided smile plastered on his face.

“I’ve been looking for you, Aves.”

“I’ve been running,” she panted, standing straight again.

“I can tell. Go shower and then meet me in the war room. Leia wants to talk with us.”

“About what?” She asked to his retreating back, but he just waved a hand at her. “ABOUT WHAT?!”

The barracks, like everything else, were underground. They had been part of a military compound for the Empire, once upon a time and now they belonged to the Resistance. It was strangely poetic to Ayva, who walked down the concrete steps, away from the humidity that had been suffocating her before. The cool air was a relief.

She stopped down a hall into the room she shared with the Tico sisters. Paige and Rose had joined long after Ayva back when Ayva had the only bunk. While most people shared four to a room, Paige, Rose, and Ayva had managed to keep their quarters to just three. She’d been happy to take them in, both young like she’d been when she first arrived. Paige, much like Poe, was a standout flyer and quickly rose in the ranks, while Rose had an aptitude for engineering. Like Ayva, Rose stayed behind, and though their work was vastly different, theirs was a shared kinship in wondering if the people you loved would come back to you.

She found Paige and Rose getting ready for the day, chatting in their native language cheerfully. Ayva ducked in for her towel and a clean change of clothes. “Ayva! How is the weather?” Paige asked as she tied her jet black hair up into a high ponytail.

“Gross, like always. I can’t stay, I’m supposed to meet Leia.”

“Yeah, I know!” Paige said with less cheer. “She’s sending you with Poe instead of me. I really wanted that mission.”

“What mission?”

“It’s all on the ground, that’s why,” Paige continued. “We don't have enough ground support, and you're our best shot.”

“What mission?”

“I won’t spoil it, but you’re definitely going to see some action. Honestly, I think it’s gonna be perfect for you.”

“Helpful,” Ayva said with no real malice. She grabbed her towel and with a wave at Rose, who was eating quickly, she was in the shared bathroom. On the only true water planet they’d spent any time on, everyone had gotten their own bathroom and Ayva cherished that memory every time she ducked into a shower stall, eyes adverted, in an attempt to give the people around her privacy. There was no helping being seen naked and at this point, she’d seen everyone in every form of undress and if they hadn’t seen her, well, it was only a matter of time. It couldn’t be helped, and, in some ways, she didn’t mind it. After all, the crush she’d had on Poe had quickly dissolved the first time she walked in on him using the toilet and she imagined similar scenarios had played out with her, as well.

When Ayva had first joined, the Resistance had been filled primarily with the old guard from the first war, with few young people outside of herself and Poe. That had shifted radically in the last five years, and with more people in Ayva’s demographics, there were more opportunities for romance. It seemed like every week someone was sleeping with someone else or had gotten together and broken up. Despite how seriously everyone took the cause, they could be an incestuous bunch. Ayva chose to live vicariously through Poe, and occasionally Paige, but had never been able to bring herself to get too close to anyone. Her failed engagement had proven to be a scar she couldn’t integrate and had instead become something of a shield. She’d thought, for a time, that she could love Poe, before she realized what she loved about him was the sense of family he gave her. He was, in all ways, the big brother she had wanted so desperately as a child. He’d saved her from what was destined to be a traumatic marriage, but it wasn’t romantic love.

Even if it had been, Poe had never looked at her with anything other than brotherly affection. He was a decade older than her and with his easy good looks and charm, Poe had his pick of people across the Galaxy. He was, inexplicably, drawn to those from the First Order and Ayva loved hearing his stories of discovering he’d accidentally bedded a high-ranking official, unknowingly, and how he made his escape, often by the skin of his teeth, just before they discovered who he was.

She dried her hair before pulling it back into the fat braid she favored, looping her hair easily at the scalp and moving quickly backwards. Small curls always fell out but she liked the effect and in the humidity, it couldn’t be helped. Her wardrobe had remained unchanged since Poe’s rescue, no matter the weather. The only thing she added, outside of boots that fit her feet, was a large silver belt that slung casually across her hips and secured around her thigh for a heavy blaster pistol she had modified, making it technically illegal in most systems. Leia looked the other way, like she did with most of Ayva’s modifications because her weaponry was effective.

It wasn’t the only weapon she kept on her. She’d tracked down a sting blaster, small enough to tuck into one of her boots. It was an exceptional weapon for close combat though virtually useless in a long-range shoot out. In her other boot, a jagged electro dagger, just for good measure and two stun batons that hung on either side of her hips.

She made her way through the winding maze of bare concrete halls until she found the largest room, the war room, where official Resistance business was done. People were always in the war room, monitoring screens, looking over maps, listening in on private conversations, and hundreds of tiny other things that Ayva would never know the true details of. She had gathered in there many times before for large group debriefs, but it was the first time she’d ever been summoned alone. Poe was already waiting, lounging in a swiveling metallic chair while Leia stood facing a massive map of the stars, her face lined with a frown. Ayva recognized pieces of whatever system they were looking at, was missing. When Ayva approached, Leia waved her hand absently, a reminder that despite her appearances and protests to the contrary, she could wield the force. Just like her father, and brother before her.

“Take a seat, Ayva,” Leia told her. Ayva was happy to comply. In truth, she would have done anything Leia asked of her after the personal risk Leia had taken to ferret her off of Couruscant. Ayva felt she owed Leia a debt she could never begin to repay and privately, felt a maternal connection to Leia, though she would never admit it. They hadn’t had enough interactions to justify it, but Ayva, desperate for family, had imprinted those feelings onto Leia and couldn’t shake them now.

“The First Order has begun mining in the Lambda Sector, on Matacorn,” Leia began without preamble, “Using a Bardak facility. Bardak doesn’t typically mine, it produces, and some sources claim they’re digging deep into the planet. This is purely reconnaissance, and it’s off the books. The two of you will make contact with Matacorn and the facility itself and attempt to determine what is being mined, and if you can, bring some of it back with you. You will have no support on this mission so take whatever you think you’ll need with you. It would be best if the New Republic was not aware you were there.”

Poe was still smiling but Ayva couldn’t help but frown. “After we collect whatever they’re mining, we’re just going to leave them to it?”

Leia and Poe turned their eyes to her and Poe’s grin widened. “Whatever happens on Matacorn,” Leia said carefully, her eyes dancing, “I want to hear nothing about it.”

“That means we can destroy it,” Poe whispered loudly.

“I didn’t hear that,” Leia repeated, turning her back on them to walk away.

Ayva turned to Poe. “If you want to destroy it, I have just the thing.”

She had bombs. The size of her palm and round save for the bottom, which was a thick, square pad that stuck to most surfaces. They packed a lethal punch and were remotely activated within a certain amount of range. Placed carefully against load bearing structures, they could make it appear as if a building had collapsed in on itself, if no one did any investigation. Of course Bardak Industries and the First Order would investigate it, Ayva knew that. However, if it was reported to the New Republic, it would look, to the casual observer as if corners had been cut in the construction of the facility. Whatever was inside might explain the resulting inferno. Ayva honestly wasn’t concerned about whatever write up an auditor needed to do.

The downside to them was their heaviness, making it impractical to carry large numbers of them. She’d need to be strategic in how they were placed and brought only five with her. She would carry them in a bag she could sling across her chest and hope that their weight didn’t slow her down too much. Poe had also advised a mask of some kind and Ayva dug out a matching black neck gaiter she could pull up to her nose. With the attached black hood, the only part of her face that remained visible were her eyes and a little smudged kohl obscured the shape while also making her look cooler than she was.

They would take one aircraft, a two person Y-Wing, navigated by his personal droid BB-8. Ayva and Poe would sit back to back, with Poe piloting and Ayva on strike support, though she doubted it would be necessary. One ship was easier to conceal than two and Ayva did not prefer flying unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Ever been to the Lamba Sector?” He asked once they were traveling at lightspeed without much to do.

“I haven’t been to any Mid-Rim sector, ever,” she told him honestly. “Just Outer Rim territories and Coruscant.”

“You aren’t missing much, although there are some nice places. Something tells me Matacorn won’t be one of them.”

“How long do you think we’ll be gone?” She asked, fidgeting a little with the controls in front of her.

“Two days, max but honestly I think we could get this done today. If I’ve learned anything, it’s not to plan too much when it comes to the First Order. Nothing ever goes right.”

“Oh yeah?”

“They’re well-disciplined in a strangely chaotic way. You’ll see when we get there, but these things go off the rails pretty quickly, and our real advantage is how easily we adapt. They have all these rules, right? Regulations they have to follow, a specific training that requires them to move in easy patterns. Not to mention that hulking armor. We don’t have that, and it makes it easier to overwhelm them, even when we have fewer numbers.”

“What are the odds we get caught?”

“I give it fifty fifty,” he said after some thought. “They make the same mistakes over and over. They don’t learn. It’s like the Death Star rebuilding with the exact same weaknesses. We keep exposing their weaknesses to them and they just rebuild exactly as it was before. Saves me a lot of time.”

“What’s our game plan on the ground?”

“Surveillance, first. Scout out how many guards they have, who is moving in and out, any patterns, that sort of thing. Look for a weak spot, exploit it, get inside and go from there. Have you ever been in any of the Bardak facilities?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Before you, I never left Republic City.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he assured her easily. “How hard could it be?”

Matacorn provided a respite from the oppressive humidity Ayva had grown accustomed to. They flew over a large lake coming in and hid their craft in a nearby wooded area, a few hours hike from the facility. Ayva was glad for all the running she did through difficult terrain; she was better equipped to make her way through unexplored woodland compared to Poe, who stumbled over every rock that presented itself. In spite of this, they made their way to the boundary of the mine, carefully hidden in a man-made clearing deep in the woods and settled in behind a large generator. Ayva pulled out one of her bombs and secured it to the generator, turning it carefully until a little red light flashed twice, indicating it had connected to her detonator, safely tucked away in her pocket.

Poe peered through binoculars, counting Stormtroopers. “Twelve. That seems like a lot.”

“How do we get past them?” She whispered, her back pressed against the cool metal of the generator, keeping herself out of sight as Poe laid belly first in the dirt and leaves.

“A diversion.”

She glanced over at her bomb, sitting placidly. “What kind of distraction.”

He looked down from his binoculars, their eyes meeting. “What did you have in mind?”

She nodded towards the bomb. “It’ll definitely distract them.”

“This place will be crawling with troopers if we do it. We might get in but how will we get out?”

“Another distraction?” She offered, lifting the heavy bag of bombs attached to her body.

“I don’t know if we can blow our way out of here…but we can try.”

She smiled under the mask, her eyes crinkling with delight. Darting back into the tree line, the two of them made their way towards the back of the structure, out of range of the blast. There was a heavy door they could get into. Ayva was practically bouncing.

“Okay, do it,” Poe told her and without hesitation, she pressed hard on the red button in her hand. The explosion knocked them both backwards, shocking the ground beneath them. Her ears were ringing, her head pounding.

“What the hell was that?!” Poe half-yelled as the blast screamed around them. They could see the resulting inferno blazing in the distance, taking everything within a mile radius with it.

“Better than I imagined,” she breathed, her eyes huge. She clambered back to her feet and rubbed her ears, but the ringing didn’t fade.

“You could have warned me that was going to happen,” he hissed as the ran down the hillside towards the now unguarded door. Poe was pulling a jagged electric lock pick he’d stashed up his sleeve.

“I didn’t know that would happen. I’ve never gotten to test it before,” she told him, unable to conceal her delight.

“I am a little afraid of you right now,” he said. The door clicked and he pulled it open and ushered her inside.

In a lot of ways, she thought it resembled their underground bunker. The same gray concrete with the same faint smell of underground earth mixed with mildew greeted them both. Next to the door, a metal black ladder offered shelter from the open leading up into the large, unfinished ceiling. Ayva climbed up silently, followed by Poe, up several stories to where a highway of heavy pipes snaked out, following the same path as the hall below up. Placing her hand on the metal to test the temperature, Ayva swung herself from the ladder to the pipes once she knew it wasn’t scalding hot. They would have to carefully crawl across the structures no wider than twice the width of Poe’s forearm. The task would require concentration and some amount of skill in order to prevent them from falling to their deaths. Ayva led the way, setting her first bomb on a pipe that connected to what appeared to be a load bearing column.

Below them, Stormtroopers walked with more speed and purpose than Poe had suggested they possessed.

“You spooked them,” Poe whispered as the wove their way further into the bowels of the building.

“Good,” she whispered back, dropping her body downward in order to swing from one pipe to another. She was terrified that at any moment they’d be caught, sitting ducks too far up to do defend themselves well.

They found the manufacturing room purely by chance. Loud clanking and hissing echoing down the halls had brought them in. Ayva had expected to see drilling but instead she saw droids operating machinery, pushing large pieces of metal down conveyer belts, into different machines that shaped and forged raw material into something familiar.

“It’s screws,” she almost laughed. “Really specialized screws.”

“Screws?” Poe asked, twisting his body upwards to sit across two parallel pipes. Ayva joined him, letting her legs swing downwards. “All this for screws?”

“I guess Leia’s intel was wrong.”

“They look big for screws,” Poe whispered.

“You’d find them in oscillators,” she told him, confident she was right. “I’ve seen these before in some of the newer ships we’ve commandeered from the First Order.”

“So they’re basically building ship cannons,” he said with a disappointed sigh.

“Pretty much. That doesn’t mean we can’t still destroy this place though.”

“A bright spot in a disappointing day,” Poe commented dryly, swinging himself back upward. Ayva placed the rest of her bombs as they made their way out, climbing back down the same ladder, and out the same door.

Straight into the waiting arms of several Stormtroopers.

“Well, well, well,” a voice, familiar from a litany of recordings, made Ayva forget all about the ringing in her ears. Captain Phasma stepped out from behind the four troopers they had unwittingly walked into, her shiny chrome armor gleaming in the sun. “I think we found our instigators. _Rebel scum.”_

Four blasters cocked and Poe held his hands up, exchanging a glance with Ayva. It was not one of surrender, but of conditional compliance. He had read her mind; the detonator was in her pocket though they were too close to activate it without killing themselves in the process. Ayva slowly raised her hands, mirroring Poe.

“Will wonders never cease?” Phasma commented sarcastically as the trooper surrounded them. A blaster poked Ayva in the back, urging her forward. She lowered her arms to her side, carefully reaching for the remote.

“Hands where I can see them,” a trooper urged, jamming the barrel of their blaster hard into her neck. She tucked the fingers of both hands into her palm as she raised her arms, resting them just as Poe had, behind his head. Phasma began marching them towards the front of the facility where Ayva saw a group of troopers attempting to put out the fire she’d created.

“Enjoying your handiwork?” Phasma asked, focusing on Ayva.

“You assume it wasn’t me?” Poe protested, his voice mocking.

“You have proven yourself to be incapable. I would assume nothing useful from you,” Phasma quickly retorted. They were so close to being out of range, though closer to a First Order transport shuttle than Ayva was comfortable with. Too close, and escape would prove difficult. She weighed her options. The blast, from where they stood, would knock everyone to the ground and had the possibility of injuring her or Poe. Too far and they wouldn’t injure Phasma, making escape more unlikely. Ayva decided to take her chances and with a squeeze of her hand, the clicked the button. Seconds later, the air around them exploded, sending everyone flying. Ayva hit the ground hard on her back, knocking the wind out of her body. A hand was forcing her upwards, gripping her arm roughly. It was Poe.

“Run, I’ll meet you there!” He was shouting, though he sounded far away. She could see Phasma, her chrome armor smudged with dirt and slightly dented, was also on her feet. Even without being able to seeing her rage, Ayva could feel it.

Poe fired a shot from his blaster, sloppy in Ayva’s estimation, as he turned to run but Phasma was too close for Ayva to get away so cleanly. She reached at her side and activated her stun batons as Phasma reached for her electro staff.

“You think you can challenge me?” Phasma scoffed. Ayva’s head was throbbing and she was still struggling to take a full breath but when Phasma struck, Ayva met her in the air, deflecting with careful instincts honed over the years. She just needed to disable the Captain in order to make her way through the forest, back to safety, but Phasma was unrelenting. Her blows reverberated through Ayva’s skeleton, making her teeth rattle and her vision shake. She’d taken a risk, detonating so close to the blast and she was paying for it. Phasma’s armor had shielded her from the damage Ayva had taken.

Another punishing blow sent Ayva back to the ground. The fight was over and Ayva knew it, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get one last good hit in before Phasma overwhelmed her. Reaching into her boot for her dagger, she slid hard through the dirt, trying to ignore the rocks that ripped through her fabric and into her skin, and slammed the dagger hard through the armor in Phasma’s leg, hitting the meaty part of her shin. Phasma cursed and brought her staff hard against Ayva’s back, and that was the last thing Ayva saw.


	3. Afterlife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who left positive feedback, please know that I read it and I love you and your words.

_Red eyes, like the smoke we rise as the candle's burning low_

_Trust me in whatever you like_

_Are you playing with me?_

\- - - -

\--

\---

Ayva reached for the glass of water positioned in front of her and gulped deeply. She had almost forgotten the incident on Matacorn and reliving it had been difficult. If things had gone differently, she might have escaped with Poe. She might not be sitting there now, dreading what came next.

“You were captured by the First Order?”

“I was.”

“To what purpose?”

“Interrogation.”

“Can you explain the interrogation process?”

\---

\--

\---

Ayva jerked awake with a gasp. She had an immediate awareness of her body, which was screaming out in pain and twitching slightly. It took her a minute to realize she was bound to a chair, her wrists strapped against the arms and her ankles painfully restrained against cool metal. She looked around, confused for a moment, before her memories of Matacorn came rushing back. She was with the First Order. The room was small and seemed to be padded. Soft, red lighting emanated around the floor, casting an uncomfortably sinister glow around the room. A large droid floated in front of her, circular and black. She was certain it had been the source of her abrupt return to reality.

A man stepped out of the shadows; his face expressionless as he cocked his head to look at her. Dark brown hair combed neatly off his forehead and a crisp uniform told her he wasn’t there to make friends.

“Welcome back,” he said softly, his voice devoid of any true emotion. She tried to recall what she remembered from the training she’d done around torture.

_Tell them nothing; they’ll kill you either way._

Why was that her takeaway, she wondered miserably? She bit her cheek as her heart sped up, filling her mouth with saliva and blood.

“For the foreseeable future, you’re our guest. We want to make you comfortable.”

She didn’t respond to his words, instead jerking her wrists hard against the restraints without breaking eye contact.

“A necessary precaution. You’re dangerous, you know?”

She didn’t respond that, either. She didn’t feel dangerous; she felt stupid. He stepped closer, their faces inches apart. She could see that his eyes were brown. She could along have counted the lines on his forehead. This would be a make or break moment.

“Why don’t you tell me your name?” He suggested softly. It sent ice up her spine.

She spat forcefully, sending blood and saliva across her face. It caught him off guard, and she cherished his horrified and disgusted reaction.

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a white handkerchief, wiping up the liquid from his face, though Ayva noted he missed the collar of his neck. It gave her a perverted sense of satisfaction.

“Have it your way.”

It could have been minutes or years and she wouldn’t have known the difference. The droid was efficient and Ayva had no qualms screaming when the pain overwhelmed her. Over and over, the blood-stained officer repeated a singular question: “What is your name?” And over and over Ayva sat defiantly silent, even when her mind begged her to say anything, even a lie, to make the pain stop. She couldn’t bring herself to relinquish the one small bit of power she could exercise. It was beginning to infuriate her interrogator, who asked the question more forcefully and demanded more force from the droid in an attempt to make her yield.

Practically speaking, admitting her identity was a death sentence no matter how she looked at it. They either killed her after they were satisfied she had told them everything she knew or they contacted her father, who would certainly kill her for her disobedience. She couldn’t see any scenario play out that didn’t result in her death.

In a way, it made enduring the torture almost bearable. It wasn’t how she would have chosen to die but it offered an end to the pain that made it possible to get through it. If she’d had any hope of escape, any hope for relief, she might have broken and given them anything they asked for.

The brunette had grown tired, either of her or himself, but after a while, and she couldn’t say how long it had been, he stepped away from the droid and left her in the room, alone. Cool air blew up through the vents and without the threat of impending pain, she let her head droop onto her shoulder and her eyes close. She was exhausted in a way she’d never experienced before and the urge to cry was slowly creeping up on her. If this was part of the torture, it was the most effective part. She had nothing but her thoughts now, and her thoughts begged her to reconsider her decision to die. Maybe, her brain reasoned desperately, they’ll let you go. Maybe you could escape your fathers grasp if they send you back. What would it hurt to try?

The door hissed open again but Ayva didn’t open her eyes.

“So this is the girl who won’t speak,” a new voice commented. The sound of chair legs scraped against the floor, making her cringe. She rolled her head back to the center of her neck and opened her eyes slowly.

“I head you spat on Yutvold. He’s asked to kill you.”

This man she recognized instantly. General Hux sat carefully on the edge of the chair, watching her with what seemed like academic interest. 

“They send Generals to deal with prisoners, now?” She asked, her voice hoarse. “Must be a slow day.”

His eyes, a strange mixture of blue and green, seemed almost disappointed at her words. Was he hoping for more of a challenge?

“I was told you don’t speak,” he said, his words carefully enunciated.

She shrugged quickly.

“You’ve upset a lot of people,” he continued in the face of her silence. “Do you know how much money you’ve cost me?”

“Over screws,” she told him in her most bored tone. “That you could get anywhere.”

“Screws that you were willing to risk your life for,” he reminded her. “How often do you blow up plants that make them? I couldn’t find one other incident.”

“Did you look me up?” She asked, shifting her voice to sound softer, sweeter. Like they were talking over lunch. He ran a hand carefully over his neatly parted red hair.

“I tried,” he admitted. “You apparently don’t exist, or I don’t have a good enough image of you. You never registered yourself somewhere? You don’t have a home?”

Her nose twitched involuntarily. “You _do_ have a home, right?”

“Do you, General?” She replied, keeping her words light. “Surely you weren’t born right here, in this moment. Why don’t you tell me about your home, and I’ll tell you about mine?”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.”

“Do you visit all your prisoners, then?”

They were staring the other down, both unwilling to yield.

“Anyone so insistent on keeping their identity a secret has something to hide,” he finally told her.

“Or maybe I don’t care to give you any information about myself.”

“It would help you, if you did.”

“Would you kill me faster, if I told you?”

“Are you hoping for death?” He frowned, as if the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

She shrugged again but her hands curled into fists all the same. “I hope for nothing.”

His frown deepened. “Most people find pain an incredibly effective motivator. Perhaps something else motivates you?”

He stood abruptly and reached for the restraints around her wrists, deftly undoing them. She sat, her back frozen, watching as he knelt quickly and unbound her legs. Her heart pounded and blood flooded into her ears as she expected him to reach for the blaster at his hip and aim. Instead, he opened the door and ushered in two Stormtroopers.

“Take her to holding cell 6,” he said decisively. “Let’s see how she likes solitude.”

Ayva never knew silence could be so loud until the door shut on cell six, trapping her inside. She couldn't handle any more as she stood, looking for anything to sleep on. A solid, shiny black bench built against a wall would suffice, she decided. It was all she could do but collapse on top of it before she fell into sleep, the exhaustion of her last few hours, coupled with everything that had happened on Matacorn, overwhelming her. She jerked awake some time later, intimately aware of the silence. She stood, ignoring how every muscle in her body screamed in protest, to get a sense of her predicament. Padded walls, hard floors, all back interior with no windows. Like in her interrogation chamber, lights, hidden in the floor, cast a red shadow across the room. The only concrete pieces of furniture was a toilet with a sink and mirror, and the bench she’d slept on.

She knew she’d never been in a worse spot, but she was alive, which was more than she had imagined she would get. A tiny sprouting of hope was beginning to bloom in her chest. She used the sink to gulp water directly from the faucet and washed the blood, grime, and kohl from her face. The mirror, warped from its unbreakable material, gave her a sense of herself, once she’d cut through all the external layers of dirt. Green eyes reflected back, framed by out of control blonde hair, unrestrained without a hair tie. She wouldn’t truly feel human, though, until she was safely away from this place.

She spent the next few hours carefully examining every reachable inch of the room, looking for any weakness. A vent, hidden against a wall underneath her sleeping bench, was promising though the metal was screwed tightly to the wall. She had to slide her aching body onto the freezing floor and kick, over and over, relentlessly, aware of how loud it sounded to her own ears though in a way she was grateful for it. Anything was better than the nothingness that permeated the air around her.

At some point, the cold on her bare skin became too much and she stopped, taking another drink from the sink before sitting back on the bench. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, staring at the door as if she could will it open. She couldn’t. No one came and Ayva stayed in that position longer than she should have, only suspending her legs outwards when her knees started burning.

No reasonable person could have hope here, but Ayva did. She knew it was madness to think she’d walk out of here, but if she didn’t, she would curl up in that spot and wait for death.

The door hissed open and bright light flooded in. Hux was back.

“General,” she said lightly, her legs reflexively pulling back against her chest. Here was a moment to study the man that would determine her fate.

The door closed, leaving the two of them alone again. The red lights reflected off his pale skin and red hair, giving him an almost demonic glow.

“How are you enjoying your accommodations?” He asked, his voice careful. She wasn’t the only one doing a character study, she realized. She tilted her chin as if she were truly reflecting.

“Feels like home,” she told him with more honesty than she’d originally intended.

“Oh? You grew up in a cage?” He asked, taking a step forward.

“Didn’t you?” She asked, standing though she kept her legs pressed against the edge of the bench. She wanted to see him better, get a sense of how his body reacted to his words.

His fingers stretched outward at his side. That was a yes.

“We’re talking about you, not me,” he reminded her.

“Something tells me it would be more interesting to talk about you.”

“Tell me your name.”

“What name could I give you that you would find believable?” She asked him, taking a careful step forward.

“You washed off your disguise,” he noted, finally seeing her.

“It wasn’t a disguise. Haven’t you considered I’m really no one?” She offered, another step towards him. He didn’t move as she encroached in his space. There was a head and shoulders difference in height between them, forcing him to look down at her. She liked to think that gesture, even if he didn’t realize it, gave her a modicum of power.

“We have that in common.”

He stepped backwards, his calm face rippling in fury, just for a moment before he smoothed it back. Ayva had learned young how to read a room. She could hear footsteps coming down a hallway in her sleep, she could feel the atmosphere change with a person’s mood and whether she liked it or not, she was always watching people, waiting, making sure it was safe for her to be there.

It wasn’t. He didn’t want her to see it, but she could feel his anger like she could feel the cold. “My patience with your games wears thin.”

Ayva shrugged, turning her back to him so he wouldn’t see the fear she felt. “It’s your game, General.”

“I will not be so merciful if I have to discover your identity on my own,” he warned her. She turned back to look at him, exhaling slowly.

“Is this what you consider mercy?”

“You are alive, are you not?”

A hysterical giggle escaped her throat. “A low bar, General and I’m certain even you must recognize that.”

“It is a kindness I have extended that I am not inclined to continue.”

An impasse. She sat back on the bench, exhausted again. “I’ll take my chances.”

He turned to leave but when the door opened, he paused and looked back. Their eyes met and Ayva thought, just for a moment, she recognized the look on his face. A similar fear, echoed in his eyes that she had seen in her own when she looked in the mirror.

He left and took her uncertainty with him. Why was she trying to humanize the man who had just promised to kill her when he found out who she was? The clock was ticking. She waited, counting slowly in her head, to be sure he was really gone, before she went back to the grate, dented but still firm against the wall. She poured her fear and anger into every kick until something primal took over. Her foot was begging her to stop but her brain wouldn’t let her quit until finally, the grate gave way. She crawled beneath the bench and pried it from the wall.

It felt almost like freedom, sliding into the metal ducting. She left the grate behind, unconcerned if they knew how she got out. Hux was smart; he’d realize it either way.

It was a tight fit, requiring her to carefully crawl on her stomach, using her knees and elbows to move her forward. She was grateful Leia forced so much training on her or she would have moved much slower and found the task much more arduous.

She was looking for a room that would enable her to escape through the halls and found it in the an almost poetic place. Hux, standing alone, caught her eye. He had a data pad in his hand and a smile of approval on his face. She waited, watching him set it down on a neat desk before grabbing a large coat from a soft looking blue couch. He left the room behind and with less effort than she'd needed to get out of her cell, Ayva jumped from the ducting into his bedroom with a near giddiness. She felt almost invincible, standing there, still prey but cunning prey. The kind of prey who now had access to her predators most private space. She walked to the desk and picked up the data pad. Her picture stared back at her and Ayva froze, just for a moment, as she looked at the fifteen-year-old girl staring back at her with dead eyes. Was that what she’d looked like back then? He’d found her, on Coruscant, in the form of her engagement announcement on the holonet. 

She set the data pad down to look at the other objects on the desk. A brown journal, opened with notes written carefully, detailed his thought process.

_Afraid to give name. Weaponry knowledge. Decent combatant._

_Cages?_

_Missing people? Runaway?_

She grabbed his pen and scrawled a messy message, aware of how chaotic her handwriting looked next to his own. An apt comparison, she thought wryly.

_Make sure you send Varus the video when you tell him what you found._

Inside his desk she found a spare key card, an unused data pad, and a blaster cartridge. That meant a blaster had to be lurking somewhere. She found it in an armoire, tucked under a blanket. Perfect. That was all she really needed, she thought, slinking out of the door and taking off down the hall. She hid several times in utility closets to avoid being spotted but the security in this section of the ship was embarrassingly lax. She figured he’d tighten it up once he realized she’d been sneaking around but, in the moment, she was grateful no one was looking for her.

That changed when she got into the hangar. The second she used his card to open the door, blaring alarms began screaming, and as if they materialized from the air, Stormtroopers were racing towards her. An unfortunate turn of events, she thought with regret as she shot the keypad on the other side, jamming the door. There were other doors that led into the hangar, reminding her that any sense of safety she’d felt was just an illusion.

She picked the closest ship to the exit, an Upsilon class command shuttle. Born from the Empire-era ships, it evoked a sense of dread in a primal way and she hesitated, just for a moment, as she looked up at its sleek, black body and it’s razor like wings, folded upwards like a terrifying bird from a time when Gods walked the galaxy.

It was horrifying to look at, but it was also unrestrained and, with Stormtroopers beginning to pour into the room, her only real option if she wanted to see this escape to the end. She ran up the ramp, firing a shot from Hux’s blaster, impressed with the force it packed in such a sleek package. She looked forward to the day when she could take it apart.

She slammed the button closing the doors and then made her way through a sitting area to the cockpit. She flipped switches, bringing the ship to life. The glass barrier in front of her was closing and despite the protest of the machinery, she demanded it move, forward, too far, too fast.

“You can’t be this stupid,” a voice crackled over the intercom. She jumped in her seat but kept her eyes on the prize.

“You’d be surprised at how stupid I can be.” She pushed the drive forward, just making it out. She wasn’t clear, not yet. The massive shadow of the destroyer loomed above her. She was punching random numbers, unconcerned about where she was spat out. The console beeped. Back to the Mid-Rim. Fine. She accepted the coordinates.

“There is no escape for you, Bardak,” he hissed.

“Catch me if you can.”

She _should_ have made her way to a hyperspace lane and ensured her path was clear. It was another risk. Making the jump could kill her. She pushed forward. If she died, at least she died on her own terms.

Space melted away in screaming lights and she held her breath, waiting, but death didn’t come.

She laughed out loud at her unlikely success.

“Don’t congratulate yourself just yet,” his voice told her, still listening.

“Would you like to congratulate me instead?” She asked, looking for the wiring source that would silence him forever. 

“There is no where you can hide that I can’t find,” he promised.

“I miss you too, General,” she replied mockingly. She found the wire and ripped with violence and then waited, but she’d silenced him. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Freedom.


	4. Godspeed

_Burning down bridges now, scatter the ashes_

_Godspeed to all you're after_

_Is this a life left just to remember?_

_Tell them who you were, who you really were._

_\--_

_\--_

_-_

For a cell on a Core world, the circumstances ought to have been better. Armitage Hux shifted slightly against the stone bench he spent the majority of his time on, trying to ease the ache in his hips. The room was small, though warm, with toiletries and a hard place to sleep. He would have preferred his home and his bed to what he had now, but when the time came, turning himself in was the only way to go forward. A tribunal would decide his fate, and for weeks he’d watched testimony play out on the data pad he had been given, as he was not permitted in the court itself. It bored him to tears, watching people he never cared much for, describe him or recount their perceptions of him. No one knew him and at best, they could say he masterminded everything the First Order engineered and at worst, he was a tolerable boss in comparison to Ren, his counterpart.

Ayva, though. Ayva knew him. He knew she would be called and some small part of him had hoped she might refuse to speak at all, like Finn had done. There was no saving him, after all. Ever the optimist, it appeared she was going to try and now he sat, helplessly, as she betrayed their early interactions and painted the clearest picture of him the Galaxy would ever get: driven, obsessed, determined, and perhaps most damning of all, loyal to the Empire he was attempting to build. He dreaded the days ahead, knowing how the narrative would play out.

He watched her detail her escape, sitting in a familiar blue dress, his own mind wandering back to that day. A day he could have walked away from.

A day that, in retrospect, set them both on the path they were currently standing on.

\--

\---

\--

“I miss you too, General,” her voice intoned sarcastically before all communication cut off. She’d disabled the wiring; it would be obnoxious to fix, he thought with irritation as he paced back and forth across his bedroom. She had exploited a weakness they hadn’t realized existed and for that, he had gotten what he deserved. No one had ever been so single-minded in their determination to evade him.

He spun on his heels, going back to the data pad with her face splayed across it.

_Make sure you send Varus the video when you tell him what you found._

Varus Bardak. He plopped into his desk chair, slumping backwards for a moment as he considered the proposition. He disliked the man, though not for his parenting but purely from a business standpoint. Bardak had no values, no morality he called on that influenced his decisions. Bardak was motivated by credits only and his loyalty could be bought, problematic when Hux wanted to ensure the technology he was asking Bardak to develop wasn’t dumped in the hands of his enemies for a higher price. Bardak was offering a price for his daughter, too, and it would have been wise to alert him that she was alive and agree to bring her back for a negotiated new, higher price. He straightened in his chair and re-read the article detailing what he knew now was an escape. The girl in the photo was still a child, her face still rounded from baby fat, and the lifelessness in her eyes was strangely haunted. It was a far cry from the woman he’d kept imprisoned, her green eyes so filled with passion, even if it was passionate hate, and it was directed at him. What kind of parent married their sixteen-year-old daughter to a man in his fifties?

Armitage knew a thing or two about questionable parenting, and though he deeply hated the memory of Brendol Hux, his father, he found himself oddly grateful that Brendol’s cruelty had not extended that far. Ayva’s own determination to keep her identity concealed and the lengths she seemed prepared to go to in order to achieve it, filled him with an odd sort of respect. He could appreciate her conviction, even if it was misplaced.

He knew, if Snoke were there, he would instruct Armitage to let her go. She was inconsequential, a gnat in the grand scheme of what they were attempting to accomplish. She had taken nothing of value, had seen nothing that might reveal their plans, and had exposed a flaw in their detention design that might have aided a far more important prisoner. He needed to focus on his projects and not this girl.

He couldn’t, though. She had foiled him at every turn and given him nothing and he needed to best her. He opened up his communication channels and began listening in for any signal that might give her position away. She may have disabled his ability to communicate directly with his ship, but he doubted she properly cloaked its signal. All he needed was the hyperspace lane she was currently traveling in and he could calculate her most likely destination. It was a new technology he was playing with and would revolutionize the way ships travelled, though more importantly, it would prevent the kind of escapes she’d made earlier that day.

It took more time than he would have preferred and by the time he picked up her signal, his anxiety was at an all-time high. He had started to worry she did cloak the signal and was lost forever. There she was, though, speeding towards the Mid-Rim worlds which he found puzzling. Why would she go so far into the interior? She was from Coruscant and he doubted the Resistance had made base so close to the Core worlds. Fingers flying, he punched her speed and coordinates into his new algorithm and waited to see what it suggested.

Naboo.

The urge to get up and pace rushed through his body, but he kept himself stationary as he tried to puzzle this decision out. Naboo was a backwater planet, in his opinion, overly concerned with aesthetics and niceties than anything he might consider useful. What could she possibly be looking for there?

_Perhaps she thought no one would look for her there._

How wrong she was, he thought as he stood. Finally, his movements had purpose. Her trajectory was mapped out on the data pad in his hand; he’d know exactly when and where she landed. He left instructions with the officers under him, letting them know he would be gone for a short while, but he had no concerns about what might happen during that time. His men were exceptionally capable.

He had to take a different command shuttle and he bristled when he stepped inside and noted its unmodified, standard features. It had taken him months to retrofit his own shuttle, now in the unskilled hands of the Resistance. He wanted it back more than he wanted almost anything else.

He made the jump to hyperspace with ease and them attempted to settle in and keep his mind from running rampant with theories. Like pacing, speculating was a waste of energy that was better spent doing things that focused on what he could control, and so he worked, pulling the data pad that tracked her to look at his other work.

His star killer base was coming along now that he’d reconfigured the drill needed to reach the planet’s core, a process started by the Empire before it fell. Barkak and Dameron had come so close to discovering what he was doing with all those tiny screws, if they’d had the imagination capable to picture what they might be used for. By the time the Resistance knew what was waiting for them, it would be too late. Imagining that always helped put him at ease. The First Order’s position in the Galaxy would be secure. His Empire would rise from the ashes of the old Empire and replace the current disarray of political systems currently operating with something more elegant. Something that offered a complete sense of security. Something that was no easily toppled, like Tarkin’s Death Star and the emotional instability of Vader. Armitage had considered the contingencies; he knew the weaknesses to his designs and had orchestrated them to be difficult to find and almost impossible to infiltrate. He’d layered it, he had back up plans, and most importantly, he was guided be rationality and logic and not his emotional whims. He was the better man to secure order for the Galaxy.

He tried not to let his bitterness about Ren, overcloud his feelings. Ren would be his own undoing, as undisciplined as he was. Hux was content to sit back and watch Ren destroy himself. Even the Supreme Leader could see how out of control Ren often was. It was only a matter of time before some whim overtook Ren and destroyed him, and Hux would be there waiting to finally take his rightful place at the top of his new Empire, unimpeded by Ren.

A beep brought him out of his reverie. She’d landed in Theed. He almost smiled. Did she feel safe? Did she imagine she had escaped him? He was almost excited to see her face, to watch the hope drain as she realized how she had miscalculated. How she had underestimated him.

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this perspective is too clunky, please let me know. I like the idea of throwing his perspective in every three chapters, though.


	5. Solstice

_You pulled me in until I came alive_

_To the sun there was nothing higher_

_In the solstice of your ever-light_

_I saw to my future._

_\--_

_\--_

_-_

“What would you attribute to your success in escaping?” Szabo asked, always asking the wrong questions. Ayva suppressed an eye roll.

“Luck,” she told him honestly.

“Just luck?”  
“Luck is all I’ve ever really had,” she continued, turning her head slightly. The packed room was quiet as a tomb, hanging on her ever word. She’d painted a bleak picture, an unlikely pairing between two people violently opposed to each other. They never had been, not from the moment they’d met, though they hadn’t known it then. She had imagined a million different scenarios that could have played out, but for Ayva they all ended the same way.

Leia had other opinions, back then. Ayva was quick to chalk it up to luck but Leia called it the force. An unknowable energy dragging the two of them forward on wildly different but necessary paths so they could collide into each other like stars that were destined to meet.

“Where did you go, when you escaped?”

\--

\---

\--

Naboo. Theed, it’s capitol city, more specifically, but Naboo generally. Using the data pad she’d stolen, she’d sent an SOS to Poe, asking for rescue. She’d showered while making her way through space, using what Hux, whose ship she’d stolen, had available. He was more progressive than she would have imagined when it came to hair and body care. She stayed under the tepid water, pretending her tears were from the water raining down above her, until the water itself turned too cold for her to bare.

Once on Theed, it was apparent she looked insane. She’d swiped the hidden credits he kept in an emergency kit and had convinced a very nervous woman to put her in a dress. Once she’d discarded her clothing for the off-shoulder, lacey blue dress, the woman seemed more at ease with Ayva’s appearance and more willing to believe that Ayva had escaped a bad marriage and had sought refuge on Naboo, if just for the time being. She gave Ayva a recommendation for a room to rent, in the heart of downtown Theed, and Ayva was all too happy to spend Hux’s money on a beautiful sleeping space in the most gorgeous city she’d ever stepped in.

To be honest, Ayva wasn’t sure if she loved Theed because it was civilization _somewhere_ or because she’d grown up on Coruscant. As she sat on a sun-soaked balcony that overlooked the streets below her, she supposed it was both. Theed was everything Coruscant was not: clean, intentionally designed, architecturally stunning. After eight years living in the middle of nowhere it was nice to see unfamiliar faces and talk to people, even if it was just to exchange money, and participate in the larger Galaxy again.

Despite the softness of the bed and the safety that Naboo was promising, Ayva slept very poorly that night. Her dreams were plagued by General Hux and more than once, she jerked awake thinking she saw him standing in the darkness. Naboo felt nice in the daylight, but Ayva knew she wouldn’t really feel safe until she was back with the resistance, in her tiny bed, far from his prying eyes.

The morning brought the promise of Poe and an end to her ordeal. She put the same blue dress on, letting her blonde curls hang loosely down her back. Her stolen blaster was clipped carefully against her thigh, hidden under the breezy, flowing skirt. She took up post at a nearby outdoor café, using the last of her stolen money to order food and basked in the sunlight while she watched the people around her move. She liked to construct elaborate backstories for the people she saw.

The black, metal chair positioned next to her scraped hard against the pavement, taking her back to the interrogation room, if only for a moment. Long, black legs, attached to a familiar frame, greeted her as General Hux, crisp in his military suit, sat next to her.

“Sleep well?” He asked conversationally, though his eyes looked like he wanted to reach out and strangle her until she stopped breathing.

“Barely,” she told him lightly, dropping a piece of toast gently onto a plate. “I could only dream of you and our next meeting.”

“You have something that belongs to me,” he continued, ignoring her remark, though she could see it made him a little uncomfortable.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific. I took several things.”

“My ship, Ayva. You have my ship.”

“Go get it, I left it in the docks,” she told him, her sweet façade slipping for a moment. “Surely _you_ could have figured that out.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and, too late, she realized he had purposefully come looking for her.

“Should you even be here?” She continued, watching him tense ever so slightly. No. “Did you travel all this way just to see _me?”_

“You caused me an exceptional amount of trouble,” he snapped, his own mask of indifference slipping.

“Well I’m sorry if I made things difficult for the man promising to kill me,” she replied sarcastically.

“You. Blew. Up. A. Building.” He enunciated each word carefully, his eyes alive with rage. “You’re not innocent in this.”

“Fine, I can admit we both made some mistakes, but it’s done now. I’m not going back unless you brought an army, and I’m guessing since it’s just you…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely around them.

His eyes were narrowed into slits. “I can bring you in on my own.”

His confidence was enviable. Ayva’s mind whirled with possibilities. Poe was on his way; he’d land at any moment. She could stall, couldn’t she? She didn’t want to create a huge scene.

“I’ll take you to your ship, if you insist, but I will go no further.”

He was already on his feet, one hand twitching in the direction of the blaster at his hip. His eyes travelled from her face to her body and she enjoyed the look of surprise that danced across it, just momentarily, before they shot back to her face.

“Do you like it?” She asked him with a shit eating grin. “You bought it.”

She had hoped to get a rise from him but if it bothered him, his face did not betray him this time.

“It’s adequate,” he commented as they began to walk. They were shoulder to shoulder and the height difference she’d notice in his cell was magnified under the bright Naboo sun.

“You should get out more,” she told him, aware that she was staring. She couldn’t help it. There was something striking about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on but the longer she looked up at his face, gleaming in the light, the more she was convinced that there was something almost recognizable under the cold mask he wore so tightly.

He glanced down at her. “Why would I want to spend time here?”

“Does beauty not impress you?”

His brows creased as his lips curved downward into a frown. “You find this beautiful?”

“What else would you call it?”

“Excessive.”

She almost snorted. “Well, I guess _you_ would, judging by how you live.”

Their elbows brushed. “You had no right-“

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you going to lecture the woman you tortured?”

“You have such a heightened sense of-“

“Justice?”

“Self-importance,” he sniffed as they made their way off the city streets to walk down an alley. “Who invited you to destroy my facility on Matacorn?”

“Who invited you to destroy the galaxy?”

His hand shot from his side and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around so she was facing him. Shielded from the sunlight by the twin buildings on either side of them, his eyes looked icy. “The problem with Resistance is an assumption that only you and your _ilk_ know what’s best-“

“General Hux,” a voice from behind her interrupted, silencing him. He looked over her shoulder and she looked at him, her wrist still tightly restrained by his own gloved hand. “We meet again.”

A blast rang out before Hux could answer and though the moment seemed to happen impossibly quickly, Ayva watched it as if time slowed. He released his grip on her wrist to grab her by both shoulders, yanking her hard against his body. He spun, taking her with her, straight to the ground.

Time caught back up as they looked at each other. She knew her eyes were huge as her brain tried to process what had just happened, but he was already on his feet, dragging her up with him.

“This way,” he instructed, turning back the way they’d come. They ran, back into the crowd of people, his hand still wrapped around her wrist in an effort to keep them together. Her mind was spinning and she had a million questions, but only one came out.

“Who is that?!” She yelled as they ran, pushing through people.

“A bounty hunter!” He yelled back, skittering quickly to a stop in front of rack of Speeder bikes. She watched him yank off a glove to quickly manipulate the wiring as she turned behind them. There was four of them, a menacing group of helmeted individuals striding purposefully towards them, blasters in hand.

“Bounty hunters?” She asked as he climbed on. “You’re wanted?”

He stretched out his hand and she realized, in that moment, she could have walked away. _She_ wasn’t wanted. She could slow him down and end his life right then. She’d be lauded a hero back home.

She took it, climbing on behind him carefully as she quickly hiked up her dress. He jerked forward and she grabbed his middle, twisting her neck to look behind them. They clearly had a similar idea, yanking bikes off the rack to give chase.

“Why are you wanted?” She half-yelled into his ear.

“I don’t recognize Hutt space,” he called back. They were quickly leaving the city and into open plains.

“You don’t recognize Hutt space?!” She almost screamed. “Are you stupid?”

“I will not be bullied by-“ A blast rang out, nearly hitting them. Ayva did scream this time. She pulled the blaster out from the holster around her thigh and, twisting as much as she could while keeping one arm around Hux, she fired back, knocking one green helmet clean off his bike.

“You’re going out into the middle of nowhere!” She yelled. “We’re sitting troopers out here!”

“Sitting _WHAT?!”_

Another shot, followed by a blast of them that caused him drive more erratic than before. She buried her face into his back for a moment, certain he was going to kill them both. When the swerving subsided, she twisted again, firing at the red helmet.

“Two for two!”

The plains were ridiculously beautiful, rolling and green in a way that seemed as though it belonged in a painting. She wanted to enjoy it, but the promise of impending death impeded her ability. The speeder skimmed over the tall green grass as they sped along. She was tempted to reach down and brush her hands across it. Ahead, a spattering of trees stood atop a tall hill that Hux was determined to climb.

“They’re right behind us.

“Do you trust me?!” He yelled at her, a ridiculous question.

“Absolutely not-“ It didn’t matter; he jerked and they both went tumbling off the bike, him with more grace. The bike itself skittered to a stop a couple yards away. Hux, with more agility than she would have imagined from him, was already half up, blaster pointed, and with a round of carefully aimed shots, the yellow and black helmets were down. She sat up, scooting herself out from under his defensively positioned legs. He’d used himself as a shield twice now. Hardly the actions of a man who claimed he wanted her dead.

“You should recognize Hutt space,” she finally told him, pulling the dress material over her shins as if she were concerned about modesty. He looked back at her with half a smile and she hated how handsome it made him look.

“And miss out on a little fun?”

“A little- a little fun?”

“Certainly even rebel scum understands fun?” He sniffed but the smile was still there. She climbed to her feet, annoyed.

“Fun, yeah, dancing, swimming, that’s fun. This was…”

“Fun,” he supplied, running a hand through messy hair in a last-ditch attempt to fix the damage done by the chase. “I don’t believe for a moment that Bardak’s daughter didn’t find that fun.”

She looked up at him, all her positive feelings slowly washing away at the reminder that he knew who she was.

“What did he say…when you told him?” She asked, biting her lower lip nervously.

Hux turned with surprise. “I didn’t tell him.”

“You didn’t?”

“It was my original intention,” he told her, taking a step forward to brush several wind tangled curls from her face.

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”

“You didn’t have to save my life,” she replied, stepping out of his range. His hand dropped back to his side, ungloved from earlier, and his fingers were soft against her skin. It was the adrenaline, she told herself, panicking at how much she didn’t hate him right now. The trauma of the moment, the adrenaline, the excitement, it was confusing the intense hatred she felt for camaraderie.

The reminder that he could have used her as a shield to better escape earlier seemed to also dawn on him. He stepped backwards; his own face openly confused. “No. I suppose not.”

He left her to retrieve the fallen speeder bike and pushed back to where she stood.

“Back to the dock?” He asked, swinging a long leg over the body of the bike. She could have walked back. She should have, even.

“I’m not leaving with you,” she warned, eyebrows raised. He nodded.

“Consider this a temporary truce.”

“I don’t trust you,” she continued, but she walked to the back of the bike. He was watching her over his shoulder, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You shouldn’t.”


	6. Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The upcoming chapters are some of my favorite. What disaster people.
> 
> Also remember how I said 20 chapters? It is technically done but I added like, 12 more in the middle over the last two weeks. It's called healthy coping and I live by that. So anyway, this is like, 32 chapters long now.

_Take what you want from me, it means nothing now_

_Take everything you wanted, it means nothing now_

_Not so easy to forgive, harder to forget_

_Take what you want_

_\--_

_\--_

_\--_

“He saved your life?” Baume repeated, almost breathless in the question. Ayva cast her eyes downward.

“Yes.”

“Was that when you felt it was safe to trust him?” Szabo interjected, trying so hard to keep them on course, to get to the heart of the matter. Ayva was certain that, had it just been her and Szabo, they’d had already gotten there by now. Baume, like the rest of the room, wanted the entire story with as much detail as she could wring from Ayva. In some ways, Ayva didn’t hate giving them what they wanted; it was almost cathartic to look back on the early days, back when they barely knew each other, and look at the choices they’d made. She sometimes felt that it had just been her, but Naboo was a reminder that Armitage had played his part. He had chased after her, made her his accomplice.

They should have gone down together. The testimony was also a bitter reminder that she was here, recounting the details, alone. Even in spite of everything, every compromise and sacrifice she had made, it was just her at the table.

“Poe picked you up?”

Ayva nodded.

~*~

She had never met anyone more grateful for her existence than Poe was the moment he saw her emerge from the side of a large star craft, a little dirty but otherwise unharmed. She hadn’t considered the guilt he was carrying around, having left her behind, and though she tried to assure him that no one but Captain Phasma was to blame, Poe was still shouldering some of it.

Safely back on base, he’d hugged her too tight, for too long, when they were back on solid ground. “It was your first mission,” he kept repeating. She had to push him off her.

“I’m okay,” she told him for the hundredth time. “No harm done.”

“That’s not how I heard it, Leia quipped, coming in behind Poe. “You’ve left a trail of destruction in your wake.”

“I am so sorry General, I can-“ Leia held up a hand, silencing Ayva.

“No apologies required. I want to hear everything, but I think you need rest, first.” Ayva nodded, waiting for Leia to leave but the General paused and her head cocked to the side. “Is that from Naboo?”

“Yes,” Ayva said quickly, fingering the soft material of the skirt between her fingers.

“My mother was from Naboo,” Leia told Ayva and Poe, her voice impossibly delicate. Ayva and Poe exchanged a glance, with twin expressions of disbelief that Leia might share any personal information with them. Leia left and Ayva abandoned Poe after reassuring him she was absolutely fine.

In truth, she wasn’t but how could she tell Poe that? He hadn’t intentionally left her. He hadn’t ordered her torture and he hadn’t experienced Naboo with her. She didn’t know how to process any of the events, so she went back to her room, mercifully empty, and folded the blue dress up carefully in a large chest that she kept all her nice things from before the Resistances. It was all clothing, or accessories, things Poe had intercepted before his rescue of her. She would have never admitted it, but she cherished those things. It was a tangible reminder of the love the people around her had for her, more than it was the actual things, though she did like that as well.

She showered, keeping her head down and avoiding the questioning glances. It was quick, and before she knew it, she was back in her bed, wet hair wrapped in a damp towel, her body dressed in soft black leggings and a slouchy black tank top. The room, windowless like everything in their underground hideout, offered total darkness which, in spite of everything, was still comforting. She buried herself beneath her blanket and closed her eyes.

Sleep didn’t come. Her mind couldn’t relax; it demanded recognition.

_You think he’s handsome._

Only when he smiles.

_You should have let him die._

It would have been wrong to leave him.

_You were almost sad to say goodbye._

That thought forced her to shove the blanket back off her face. It wasn’t true, she protested wordlessly. She had felt relief when he’d kept to his promise and let her walk away, unhindered. Being back, in her own bed, far from his reaches, was a relief.

She sat on the edge of her bed, resting her head in her hands. They’d forged a trauma bond, that was all. It could be undone, through space and remembering that he was more monster than man and any humanity she’d managed to find was more of a commentary of her, and not him. Ayva could find the good in almost anyone.

She dug out the data pad she’d stolen from him and, with a small amount of effort, extracted the original calling number. His number. She held it in her hands, too small to be held as carefully as she did, as her mind raced. It would be treason, to act on the impulse to reach out to him, but who else understood how she felt?

_He doesn’t feel._

She did, she thought with a little resentment. Her fingers flying across keys, she sent one careful message. One that, if anyone ever found, would look harmless. Meaningless.

_Safe?_

Sending it calmed her down, for some reason. Her mind slowed, it’s accusations and insistence of replaying Naboo over and over finally relenting, giving Ayva a small amount of peace. She didn’t expect a response, though she tucked the data pad under her pillow and settled back in. When she woke, she could begin to do the necessary work of reconciling her trauma with the rest of her body, but tonight, all she had to do was sleep.

The data pad buzzed.

_Safe. Home?_

_I have no home._

It felt dramatic, to send it back, and strangely personal, but it was true. This compound wasn’t home, even if it felt like safety. None of the worlds they’d ever been stationed on ever felt like home. Coruscant, the only actual home she’d had, didn’t feel like a home should, either.

_Me too._

She didn’t respond but she felt better knowing that somewhere in the Galaxy, someone understood.

*

Ayva felt better when she completed her usual routine. A run through the jungle, followed by a shower and changing into the clothing she always wore made her feel almost human again. The comm from the night before was almost a memory, tucked away safely in her chest and the memory of what she had done filled her more with shame than made her feel comforted. For whatever commonalities they had, they firmly opposed the other. No amount of understanding was going to turn him into an ally, and there was no point trying to.

She found Leia waiting for her in the war room, staring at the same incomplete star map.

“What system is it?” Ayva asked, looking at it too.

“I don’t know,” Leia told her, her concentration broken. “We’ll figure it out though. We always do.”

Ayva took a seat in a swiveled metal chair, across from Leia. “Tell me everything.”

Ayva almost did. She withheld certain details, like the messages she’d sent the night before and how Hux had shielded her with his body. She didn’t know why she couldn’t bring herself to tell Leia. Maybe it felt too intimate, the act of keeping her safe not once, but twice, along with her own reciprocity. She shot two of the bounty hunters without giving it any real consideration.

Leia, for her part, offered no reaction and made no judgements which made telling her that much easier to spill her guts.

“That sounds like an ordeal,” Leia finally said, when Ayva fell silent. “I once was tortured, you know. At the hands of the Empire, at the behest of a similar General. It took me a lot of years to realize it had left a scar, one I found difficult to heal. War can feel so immediate, so enormous, that we let our wounds fester quietly.”

Ayva nodded.

“As for the illustrious General, Armitage Hux,” she flashed Ayva sly grin at the revelation of his name, “I think you may have accidentally discovered the two of you share a great deal in common. Difficult fathers and hard childhoods brought you both to your respective positions. It’s interesting, how similar situations can produce such different outcomes. I had thought we might avoid that with you. I’m glad to see I was right.”

“You thought I might work for the First Order?”

“I considered the possibility that they would call on you, if they discovered your talents. I think now I underestimated your capacity for goodness. Not everyone could find empathy for their captor.”

“I think I might have just dumped all of the trauma I felt into the few kind things he did and got them mixed up,” Ayva confessed. Leia nodded.

“You’re human, Ayva. Give yourself room to make some mistakes, to be a little messy. You did what you had to do in order to survive and there is strength in that. Who we are and who we have to be in order to survive are vastly different people. If you found yourself comfortable relying on General Hux, consider the possibility that you did what was necessary to come back to us alive. I’m glad that you did! I know Poe is also glad…”

Ayva shifted a little uncomfortably in her chair. Leia had always tried, in small ways, to nudge them closer. Perhaps Leia sensed Ayva’s confusion and thought seeking comfort in the familiarity of Poe would clear up the confusion. After all, what two men could be different? The problem wasn’t romantic, in Ayva’s estimation. She wasn’t interested in kissing Hux. She just…wanted to see him again.

“On to business,” Leia interrupted. “In light of Matacorn, and how wrong our intel was, I need you to go scouting. Strictly scouting, no demolitions. I’m sending you and just you back to the Outer Rim, to Tion, to an island where an old Empire mine has been reportedly repurposed for the First Order. I just need you to confirm if it’s working again. You need to keep a very low profile; rogue droid operate there and you will have little luck taking them on by yourself.”

“What am I looking for?”

“If it’s operational and nothing else.”

“And if it is operational?”

“Then we know our intel is still good and Matacorn was a one-off.”

“And if not?”

Leia’s face twisted into an expression of regret. “Then I’ll be sending you back to Coruscant. Let’s not worry about that just yet. One thing at a time.”

The meeting was over, finalized by the tone of her voice. Ayva tried not to let dread creep in at the idea of being sent back to Coruscant, a place she’d studiously avoided. Leia hadn’t given her a hard and fast deadline for going out to Tion, so Ayva decided to spend the day reintegrating herself with her friends. Rose was easy to find in the mess hall, sitting at their usual spot at a circular table at the far end of the large room. It was mostly clear by then and Ayva suspected Rose had waited, hoping to see her.

Rose smiled easily; it was one of Ayva’s favorite things about her. “How are you? I saw you sleeping last night, and I didn’t want to wake you up. Poe says you’re deeply traumatized, and you probably hate him, so I’m guessing you’re doing alright?”

“I’m _fine,”_ Ayva stressed, reaching for a piece of fruit off the tray Rose had in front of her. “Even the General thinks so; I already have a new mission.”

“Already? Why?”

“She thinks wherever we’re getting our intel is compromised. This should be easy; Tion is a water world.

“Since when does Leia send you on missions?” Rose continued, her frown deepening.

“Since I stabbed Phasma in the leg,” Ayva told her best friend with a grin.

“You _what?”_

“Yeah. I completely forgot that happened until I was telling Leia everything, but I totally did that. Stabbed her right in the leg. I hope that wound gave her a little bit of hell, considering all the hell she gave me.”

Rose’s smile faded slightly. “You’ve become a real hero, Ayva.”

“Don’t say that,” Ayva interjected quickly. “I’ll be back in my cave before you know it, watching Paige and Poe and Kaydel and everyone else take off. It’ll be nice to be benched.”

“You shouldn’t be benched, though.”

“Neither should you,” Ayva insisted with vehemence. “You belong out there, too, and everyone thinks so.”

“They’re wrong.”

“ _You’re_ wrong,” Ayva shot back with a petulance that could only be rivaled by a child. Rose, meeting her where she was at emotionally, stuck out of her tongue, but the vulnerability of the moment was gone, which had been Ayva’s objective. There was no use in pushing Rose too hard; after all, that was Paige’s job. Ayva’s job was just to be supportive like Rose always did for her. Ayva, of course, had the benefit of seeing Rose without being bogged down by all the insecurities that plagued her best friend. Rose was incredible, she was special, and somehow, in spite of everything, could see the best in everyone. She could inspire people to be good, just by seeing it in them. By the end of the war, Ayva knew Rose would be standing with the best of them.

_She would be the best of them._

There was no point arguing it. They had jobs to do that inevitably forced them apart. Ayva, for one, was thankful for a day in the cave. It was one of the smaller rooms in the underground compound, tucked away close to the back, right up against the armory. Any room that Ayva’s little workshop occupied was called the cave simply because it was the name she’d chosen for the room, years earlier, in a room that was move cave than man-made structure.

It was a space that no one bothered her in, and that was what she liked best about it. Quiet, alone with her thoughts and machinery that was uncomplicated, Ayva did all her best thinking in these rooms. It didn’t matter what planet it was located on, or what broken piece of equipment was put in front of her, Ayva found it a lot like therapy. Though there was plenty to fix, what she really wanted was to take apart Hux’s blaster. A small thing that packed a powerful punch, it had clearly been built specifically by him and she thought taking apart his weapon might offer insight to the man himself.

She shouldn’t care, she reminded herself as she got her tools and glasses. He wasn’t the first man who had tried to slide into her life, though he was the first to skip romantic overtures and immediately attempt to kill her. Or, in his defense, look the other way while others did. She picked up a small screwdriver and began carefully undoing the screws in the handle as her mind replayed Naboo like it was the holonet the morning after a podrace. She knew why she cared, she reflected, taking off the metal sheeting of the handle to look at his wiring: because he shouldn’t have cared about her, and he did. The idea it might have been instinctual made her curiosity burn hotter. It meant the monster might be, on the inside, just a man. A man who could feel.

A ridiculous notion, but she clung to it just the same.


	7. Half Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have split this chapter up. It is really long. It works better all together, though.

_It makes me feel nervous, you have that look in your eye_

_Oh, what takes over?_

_What is it that holds you tight?_

_And you can tear it up, oh no one tears it up like you_

_Oh, you can rip it up, no one rips it up like you_

_When you're in the half light it is not you I see_

_And you live a half life, you only show half to me._

_-_

_\--_

_\--_

She went back to her bunk that night convinced that he was, if nothing else, a genius. His wiring was art and his mind on a level she would never match. He’d thought to put the gas chamber of a blaster cannon into the body of a sporting blaster, causing a smaller beam to surge, but one with a powerful punch. She would be holding on to this, assuming she could modify enough cartridges to make it useful to her.

She had enough for Tion, making it the only weapon, outside of her boot dagger, she brought with her. Leia had assured her it would be possible to get in and out without disturbing the rogue droids that apparently populated the island. The cannon blaster would be helpful in case Leia turned out to have bad information on that front, too. The journey to Tion was easy and took Ayva less than an hour to make and Ayva found the climate of Tion utterly agreeable. Gloomy, sure, but the temperature was mild, and a constant breeze kept her cool when she did feel too warm. The island was small, built from a distant, now long dead volcano that stood at the tallest, most visible point in the distance. Ayva would have to hike uphill, through trees, to get to the looming on the horizon. She left her ship just off the beach, thinking it would be nice to find it at the bottom of her hike when she came back.

Her morning runs had primed her well to make the hike upwards and the sound of waves crashing in the distance made the trek almost enjoyable. She felt as relaxed as was possible, under the circumstances. Rogue droids were definitely present in the foremost part of her brain, battling for dominance over her attention and Ayva had to work to shove the idea to the side as she took in the scenery. Everything was so green in the galaxy and Tion was, too. Its wooded area was sparser than their base but thicker than Coruscant, with rough bark she kept running her hands over impulsively. Above her, leafy treetops rustled continuously in the cool salty breeze, the sound mixing pleasantly with the ocean in the background.

When she reached the top, she looked over the cliffside to take in the view. Crystal blue water shone as far as she could see. The air felt crisp against her skin and she inhaled deeply. It had been years since she had set foot on Coruscant, but the effects were long-lasting; every breath of fresh air still felt like a gift.

The factory was long-abandoned and by the looks of it, had been empty for decades. It was a relic from the Empire, it’s classic Empire-gray exterior betraying its age. Whoever had been here was drilling deep into the planet, evidenced by how the facility was built into the sharpest edge of the cliffside, jutting outwards over beach into water.

Vines had overtaken the front of the structure and Ayva, interested in what they may have been looking for, wrenched open a rusty door after carefully brushing the tangled mass of foliage to the side. She didn’t want to disturb anything with her presence when the landscape seemed determined to eradicate the damage done by the Empire. She was just a visitor, documenting its progress and it felt good to not add to the damage, for once. She recognized that she could be a blight, a dark shadow bring death hidden in her shadow, all in the name of resistance.

Inside looked like every other Empire facility and Ayva wasn’t impressed with gray steel or white floors. It wasn’t until she reached an old drill, centered in a massive chamber, that she really stopped to look around. Massive windows with metal fans centered within them, now stopped, allowed light to flood in, making the space look larger than it was. She walked carefully down crumbling stairs to reach the drill, massive in its size, though its once sleek drill head was orange with rust.

She touched the grooved striations of the drill and almost rolled her eyes. What else would the Empire be drilling for, if not oil? She wiped the slick liquid from her fingers onto her pants. There was nothing here anymore; even the ghosts were gone. She made her way back to the stairs when an explosion, somewhere in the distance, threw her backwards. Her back collided against discarded debris roughly but she couldn’t cry out. The force of the blow had knocked all the breath from her body. It took her a moment to catch her breath and clear her vision. She struggled to get herself back to her feet, the ringing in her ears battling the sounds of a battle raging somewhere outside her. Someone else was here.

She shook her head, aware that her hair had been released from her snapped hair tie, before she started moving, back the way she came, towards the door she’d come through. Another blast rocked the structure around her, raining particles onto her. She cracked open the door and saw, before anything else, the bodies of Stormtroopers, lying in the once pristine grass. Approaching K-4D8 droids, some missing limbs or eyes, almost caused Ayva to slam the door shut. Those that could, were clutching blasters. She grabbed her own and fired out of the door, assuming they must be coming for her now that the Stormtroopers were dead. Had she done this? Had she alerted the First Order to her presence, killing everyone and bringing the rogue droids on her?

No, she realized, when a bloody hand grabbed her arm and forced them both back into the door. Armitage, bleeding from his face, looked feral.

“Lock it!” He ordered without looking at her.

“It doesn’t lock!” She told him, wrenching her arm from his grasp. Why was he always touching her? His head swiveled back to really look at his rescuer.

“You!” He accused.

“Me?! You! What have you done?!” She demanded and they both took off running from the door. They had turned a corner, back towards the drill, when she heard the door behind them scream as it was yanked off its hinges.

“I was told the island was no longer inhabited!”

“So you thought you’d just blow it up?!”

“To stop the Resistance, I would do far worse.”

“Well congratulations General, now you’ll die with them.”

The skittered down the steps into the room with the drill but kept going, further into the bowels of the facility. Hux knew where they should be going, directing her left or right with his body. Behind them, the clanking of droids against the floors fueled them forward.

Hux wrenched open a turbolift. “Afraid of heights, Bardak?”

“I’m more afraid of death,” she assured him, peering into the shaft. She jumped first, grabbing the thick, steel cable in her hands. She started sliding down, unaware for a moment of how the material was shredding the skin of her palms but when it caught up with her, she almost let go, dropping into the unfathomless bottom. She kept going but it was agony until her boots hit the top of the broken turbolift. Hux, hunched, was already taking the top off as the droids began firing into the shaft. Just missing a blast, she jumped down, her hands screaming.

He glanced at her hands, his face contorting slightly, but if it bothered him, he didn’t comment on it as he pulled open another set of lift doors. She recognized where they were almost viscerally; it could have been the underground compound of her current home.

There was no time to really contemplate it as the loud thuds of droids hitting the turbolift surged them forward, to a set of huge, steel doors. Once again, Hux got them through but this time he yanked off a piece of side paneling, revealing the wiring underneath.

“Cover me Bardak,” he grunted, his fingers carefully manipulating the wires. She knelt, blaster pointed, between the door and the hall. As massive droids began to emerge, Ayva shot, aiming for the head. More droids than she had blasts for were pouring out and right as she began to panic, Hux grabbed at her shoulder. Wordlessly, he scrambled upwards, towards a slow-moving steel partition. Ayva was still shooting, running backwards.

“BARDAK!” Hux barked, bringing her attention to the tight space she needed to get through. She hit the ground and he reached for her, pulling her underneath, moments before it slammed to the ground. They stayed there, huddled on the cold floor, pressed against the other, waiting to see if the droids would finally stop. She jerked when she heard that first a clanking metal body hit the divider, but the reinforced steel prevented it from getting through. She exhaled. Safe for now.

He was scooting backwards, a hand clutching his stomach. She kept her eyes on his body as she pressed her hands flat against the coolness of the floor, hoping to calm her inflamed hands.

“You’re hurt,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as possible. He looked like a caged animal who might fight her if she got too close.

“I’m fine,” he snarled as he pressed his hand tighter over his stomach.

“Move you hand,” she replied, holding eye contact with him.

“I’d sooner-“

“Move. Your. Hand.”

He did, revealing a circular dark stain against the black of his jacket. She looked upward at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath. “When did that happen?”

“In the blast,” he admitted, his teeth ground together.

“You need a medic.”

“All I have is you,” he reminded her.

“How lucky,” she said with some sincerity. There were worse people to be stuck with than Ayva, who had participated in every medic training the Resistance had ever offered and though she wasn’t one, and her skills were just above average, it was better than being with someone like Poe, a man she had once heard brag about pouring alcohol into an open wound and calling it a day.

“Where is the med bay?” She asked with more authority than she felt.

“I’m not going to the med bay.”

“For my hands,” she interjected quickly, showing him her bloody hands. He blanched again.

“Hopeless, Bardak.” He let her help pull him up though it was his turn to wrench himself from her grasp. They made their way down dark halls, illuminated occasionally by a flickering bulb somehow still holding on. It was clear that it had been pure adrenaline that had kept him moving when the droids were chasing them, and it was wearing off quickly. His walking was slowed and staggered, his hand grasping desperately at his middle. She grabbed his arm when he began to pitch forward and draped it over her shoulder, letting him lean his bodyweight against her.

“Why do you care, Bardak?” He asked, his face paler than usual.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, grateful he’d navigated them to the med bay. She dumped him onto the bed and began digging through the supplies that had been left behind. “How long do you think bacta is good for?” She asked, her back to him.

He didn’t respond. She turned, terrified she’d see him dead, but his eyes were open and focused on the light hanging above them. She moved to his body, heart pounding. “Take off your jacket,” she told him, hoping she sounded authoritative and not as terrified as she felt.

“I will do no-“

“You will, or you’ll die here, with me.”

His hand, bloody, moved to the neck of his jacket and fumbled with a hidden zipper. She shoved it away and yanked the zipper down, forcing the jacket off his body. A blood-soaked white t-shirt sent sirens screaming through her brain. Without asking, she yanked it upward, off his head and tossed it somewhere behind her. His hand was still covering the wound and carefully, aware he was watching her, she picked his hand up and set it just above the wound, letting herself get a sense for what she was dealing.

Blood pumped out sickeningly with every beat of his heart. The wound was large and something unidentifiable was sticking out of it. Their eyes met.

“That bad?” He asked, leaning his head back to the bed to look up.

“It’s not great,” she admitted, going back to the cabinet and scooping as many things as she thought might be helpful, including a bottle of pure alcohol. Somewhere in the Universe, Poe was laughing at her. She couldn’t reflect on the irony as she took tweezers and looked down at him.

“Here goes nothing,” she asked him before tweezing the piece of shrapnel out of the wound. His body jerked upwards reflexively, his hand nearly striking her.

“What was that?!” She demanded when he relaxed.

“You have to restrain me,” he panted, his chest heaving. “Or I’ll kill you.”

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline and even in his compromised state, he seemed to recognize her outrage. “Not intentionally, Bardak. Not this time…it’s a knee-jerk reaction.”

“How nice,” she muttered, lifting arm rests up from under the bed with a satisfying click. “Your instinctual reaction is murder.”

“As if yours isn’t,” he ground out as she pulled up the leather straps, attached to the armrests, and attaching them to his arms.”

“I have to admit, this is incredibly satisfying.” There was some satisfaction in restraining her former captor, though she did not pull the restrains as tightly as they’d been placed on her. He balled his hands into fists and tried to pull them out.

“Legs, too.”

There was nothing that she could find that would restrain his ankles as easily as his wrists. She was distracted by the blood, still pouring thickly from the wound, reminding her that if they didn’t hurry, she’d be working on a corpse before long. It wasn’t really a conscious decision she made, as she swung her leg over his body, straddling his lap. He was watching her, his eyes slits.

“I don’t think-“

“I’m aware,” she snapped, stopping whatever insult was about to leave his lips with a withering look. “You’re not on your ship and I’m all you’ve got.”

“As you’ve reminded me.”

She reached for the tweezers again, pulling another piece of metal shrapnel from his wound as she dug her legs down against him as hard as she could. He arched upwards violently, but her bodyweight combined with the restraints kept him from doing much more than thrashing against the pain. For his part, he didn’t scream out and seemed to be making an attempt at controlling his reactions.

Once she was sure she had all the pieces out, she reached for the alcohol, uncorking it quickly and taking a drink herself.

“Nice,” he commented dryly as she screwed her face up at the taste. She took another, just for good measure, letting the warmth of the alcohol flood her body and steady her shaking, burning hands.

“Go someplace happy,” she warned, waiting for him to jerk his head upwards in a nod. He was breathing hand in anticipation and in an attempt to steady him, she put her free hand against his chest and pushed as hard as felt appropriate before pouring it into the wound.

His screamed out, a guttural sound that brought her heart up into her throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she told him quickly, still pouring.

“Just finish it!” He half-yelled. She poured a little more, just to be safe. Leaning towards her haphazard medical collection, she found bandages and grabbed a handful and pressed downward, mopping up as much blood as she could while she tried to ignore how hard his body felt underneath her and how much her thighs ached from trying to keep him level. Once she had done that, she peeled the wrapping off the bacta pack and pressed it into the wound. It would offer some relief once the bacta made its way from the pack and into his body. She waited for what felt like forever, watching his chest steady into careful breathing. His arms, previously flexed, finally seemed to relax and under her she could feel, finally, some form of surrender. She slid off of him, her legs almost collapsing underneath her.

“I need to bind it up,” she told him with a soft sigh.

“Get it over with,” he told her, though there was no real malice to the words. She unrestrained him, letting him recline upwards on his elbows. She was aware of his eyes on her face as she leaned back into him, wrapping a long bandage around his lean, muscled torso. She hadn’t had time to look at him, too caught up in the blood coming from his body but now that the danger seemed to have passed, she was all too aware of how close they were and how intimate this moment felt.

Once the bandage was secured, she moved to step backwards, out of his space, but he caught her, gently, forcing her hands palm up to reveal the damage from the cable. “Your turn,” he told her, his voice impossibly soft. Their eyes met and he released her wrists, perhaps aware she felt uncomfortable. He climbed off the table and patted it. Careful to avoid his blood, she sat on the edge and let him clean her own hands.

“Gloves would prevent this,” he told her, pouring the alcohol onto her palms. She sucked air in through her teeth with a loud hiss.

“I don’t like gloves. I like to feel.”

He was dabbing a cloth he’d pulled from his discarded jacket careful against her hands, his expression returning to one of annoyed disdain.

“What good is touch to you now?”

She thought about his body writhing underneath hers. “No harm done,” she assured him, attempting to expel the memory from her mind. He’d found a tube of bacta and was squeezing it into her palms before wrapping two bandages around them. He stepped back and she felt hysterical as the fear was replaced with exhaustion in her body. Bright red blood streaked across his chest and down his stomach, marred by broad strokes created from her fingers.

“You could have let me die,” he told her as she jumped off the table to her feet. It was the paradox of them; they were enemies constantly saving the others life.

“You could have, too,” she reminded him, recalling back to Naboo.

He was leading her out of the med bay, walking down aging concrete halls, to a nondescript door. He pushed it open with his shoulder to reveal the highest-ranking officer’s room. She wondered if this is what Leia’s room looked like back home. It wasn’t large like his space had been, spanning into a variety of interconnected rooms. This was just one big room, with an old bed, complete with decaying blankets, was pushed against the far wall. Hux was walking to the desk, picking up a piece of faded paper before letting it flutter back to the desk. Twin chairs and a small, wooden table seemed most appealing to Ayva, who collapsed into one, letting her body sink into the too-soft material.

“That was…an accident,” he half groaned, sitting on the edge of the old bed. “This was something different.”

Faint banging reminded them the safety they felt was an illusion. She just needed to sit there for a moment and let her mind figure out her next steps.

“I wasn’t going to let you die,” she protested, closing her eyes.

“I would have.”

She opened them slowly to look over at him. “Well, I’m not you.”

“It would be easier for you, if I were gone.”

“If you want, I can do it now.” She mimed shooting him with her finger and thumb.

“You wouldn’t. It’s why you and your little band of rebel scum always lose. You can’t make necessary choices.”

“What did my dad say, when you told him you’d found me?” Ayva snapped, knowing full well Hux hadn’t disclosed his discovery. Their eyes met. “Maybe I’m not the only one struggling with ‘necessary choices.’”

“I told you-“

“Yeah, yeah. I know what he’s offering for information about me, you know. Millions of credits. Enough for say, a new resurgent class destroyer or whatever it costs to launder your uniforms. Thousands of blasters. Hundreds of soldiers. A nice apartment-“

“I get it,” he grumbled, looking completely irritated. “Perhaps I’m not motivated by money.”

“The only man in the galaxy who isn’t, then.”

“Beside yourself.”

“What?”

“Besides yourself,” he repeated, his eyes brighter than they had been all day. It was clear this was something he’d wanted to ask for a while. “You walked away from what promised to be a very comfortable life for…this?”

“What would you know about it?” She grumbled.

“My father could also be difficult but there was wisdom to…some…of his teachings.”

“Oh, sure. Your father, what, couldn’t bring himself to tell you he was proud of you? Did he arrange a marriage for you to a man three times your age in order to continue operating his shady businesses, one that should have been dismantled when the Empire fell? Did he agree to let that man marry you when you were sixteen on the presumption you would be somehow more pure, because no other man had ever touched you before? What you know about me starts and stops at whatever holonet clippings you found. This may look like a step down from the glittering Coruscant life to _you,_ but to me, this is freedom.”

It was still a sore spot, she realized as she crossed her arms across her stomach tightly.

“Why would I send you back to that?”

She jerked up to look at him, his expression almost empathetic. “You are a worthwhile adversary,” he continued, smoothing his features back into his typical disdain, “And decent company when the chips are down.”

“Did you just ask me to marry you?” She teased, watching his lips deepen into a scowl.

“I absolutely did no such-“

“I accept,” she interrupted, enjoying how the power had shifted so suddenly in her favor. He was too easy to rile up. “I think we’d be a real power couple in the galaxy, you know, with my good looks and charm and optimistic spirit and your tendencies towards absolute destruction and chaos. Honestly, with my help, you could probably have the galaxy by now.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“I think the Core Worlds would really respect our beginnings, as well. Sworn enemies, driven into each other’s arms by rabid droids-“

“Is that what you think is happening here?”

“Survivors who realized their shared goals.”

“We have no shared goals.”

“It’s a timeless love story, really. People would fill rooms to hear it.”

“You are only interesting in your own mind, Bardak.”

“One day, when our children inherit our empire-“

“This is a consummated marriage, is it?”

She looked over it him, secretly pleased he was now playing along instead of arguing with her. His words were still dry, but he was teasing her instead of resisting. She’d need more of that to get through the night.

“Well of course,” she replied with pretend irritation. “I said timeless love story not stuffy arranged marriage, remember?”  
“What do _you_ know about consummating a marriage?”

“Nothing,” she commented lightly, ignoring the jab. “Obviously, with your _superior_ experience, you’ll teach me, which explains our twelve children-“

“Twelve?! Bardak, your imagination has-“

“We’ll be raising babies well into my fifties, your nineties-“

“I’m not _that_ much older than you, you know.”  
“I suppose I could enlist Poe to watch them when we’re busy-“

“He’ll do no such thing.”

“They’ll survive us by bitterly carving up our empire and besmirching our good names, but history will remember us fondly as the last good emperors the galaxy saw.”

“Aren’t you all about freedom and democracy and what have you?”

She finally gave up her bit. “Are you not?”

“I would be, if any planet had ever utilized the system for something short of pure chaos. The populaces of every democratically elected world routinely vote in their own disinterests. The wealthy use it as a means to stay wealthy and the poor clamor to the point of riot to let them do it, all the name of freedom.”

“What gives you the authority to say you know better?” She asked him softly, aware they were treading into dangerous territory.

“A child could do a better job, Bardak,” he snapped. “You said it yourself with your absurd story: you could have it locked down almost instantly. Perhaps you could. You are certainly capable. And despite your sympathies, your soft nature, they would fight you every step of the way so that they might walk the path of their own destruction.”

“Is that not just the living condition?”

“But should it be? We could create a better, fairer galaxy. One in which a voice was given to every man instead of men like your father.”

The _we_ settled hard in her stomach. “If Darth Vader couldn’t do it, what makes you think you can?”

“I am not ruled by my petty emotions!” He snapped. “I am disciplined, I am-“

“Just another man. Unless you’ve found a way to overrule your base instincts?”

Their eyes met again, and his eyes glinted oddly. “That,” he finally conceded, “I have not managed.”

They fell back into silence, at an impasse. She couldn’t convince him he was wrong no more than he could convince her he was right. He was so close, which frustrated her the most. He was almost there, and if he could just make the leap, perhaps he could be persuaded to abandon his beliefs. It couldn’t be done that night, but she could plant the seed, surely.

“Have you thought of any other way of escape?”

“Other way?”

“We both know there’s one obvious way out. I was hoping you had thought of another.”

“I was hoping to avoid a jump into sea water. We don’t know what’s lurking, ocean life notwithstanding. Rocks could break our fall.”

“Are there vents we could climb through?”

His eyes narrowed at the suggestion.

“I would not trust them to be structurally sound.”

“You _can_ swim, right?”

“What- of course I can swim, Bardak.”

“Okay. First light, then. We’ll jump and swim for shore. Go our separate ways.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

\--

She felt his hands touching her arms sometime in the night, and even though she knew it was him, she still pulled her blaster out and pointed it at him, half delirious. “Kriff Bardak, put that thing away before you put an eye out,” he complained. “Get in the bed.”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, waving him away.

“You’re shivering.”

Was she? She leaned up and stretched out her legs, curled under her body. She was. When did it get so cold?

“Get in the bed,” he repeated himself, pulling her gently out of the chair as she tried to catch her brain up to what was currently happening.

“No, wait, you need it. Shot in the chest, remember?”

“I’m okay,” he told her, pushing her towards the bed. “The wound in unbearably itchy which means it’s doing its job.” She fell backwards with some help from him, the mattress groaning under her weight. “I’ll take the chair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she complained, scooting herself upward towards the headboard. “It’s big enough for two people, even if one has an ego the size of Chandrila.”

“I’ll assume that’s you,” he shot back. “I don’t think it’s appropriate-“

“We’re well over _that_ line, General. Just get in the damn bed.”

She could see him standing in the dark, negotiating the decision in his mind, before he joined her on the opposite side, leaving an ocean of space between them. She yanked the threadbare blanket over them both and tried to get comfortable, but the bed smelled stale and everything was too soft. She was also having trouble ignoring how physically close they were- again. Too intimate, again. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch him, really touch him, but she didn’t, instead tucking her hands under her head.

“Everyone believes he killed you. Maunder, I mean,” Hux said after several long, silent minutes. She turned her head to look at him.

“Why?”

“You left your wedding dress behind?”

“Well, it would have slowed me down.”

“Right. Apparently, he was also nowhere to be found for several critical moments when you were discovered missing. Appeared, red faced, sweaty-“

“That’s how he always looks,” she reminded Hux darkly. “For a man in such good shape, he sure does get out of breath easily.”

“Bardak himself considers it the most likely scenario.”

“That he murdered me?”  
“Accidentally, of course. Would you like to know the most popular rumor?” He turned on his side, his head resting on his arm.

“Is it bad?”

“It is…unpleasant, were it true.”

“Tell me.”

“The belief is Maunder snuck in an attempt to…ah…get to know you better, if you understand my-“  
“I understand!”

“And you resisted, of course, like a young woman might. A struggle resulted in your death and he had to hastily dispose of your body. It explains, in some ways, the discarded clothing and Maunder’s disappearance.” His voice was tight, like it made him angry to repeat.

“It’s not true,” she reminded him matter of factly. “Whatever he was doing, it had nothing to do with me. Poe brought me a change of clothes and I left that unsightly gown behind, with everything else.”

He cleared his throat. “I admire what you did, that day. Even if I might have preferred you went somewhere else. It took courage.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” she told him with a playful smile. It was too dark to tell if he really saw it.

“I mean it. A lot of people might have accepted their fate.”

“Isn’t that what you advocate for?”

“I would never advocate for what nearly happened to you!”

“Why not?” She challenged, angry at the idea he might betray her. “My father knew what was best for me, right? I was just a child, there were jobs and credits riding on my marriage-“

His hand shot out, covering her mouth.

“Stop talking, you’re being ridiculous. I would never have agreed that selling you in marriage was a good idea.”

He withdrew his hand.

“I should hope not,” she sniffed with fake indignity. “If I’d married him, how could I have married you.”

“Back on this again, are we?”

“I suppose we still could have met, the night of my wedding. You would only have been a man in your forties then-“

“I am not in my forties, Bardak!”

“But I imagine you were still filled with energy, despite your faded youth. We would have danced, united in our hatred for Maunder-“

“Finally, a detail that isn’t imagined.”

“You would have offered to murder him, expecting me to decline but I accept. It’s the only way I will agree to marry you so-“

“I would never expect you decline an offer of murder-“

“You do it and I am assured of your affection. We run away, far to the Outer Rim, and are married in Hutt Space-“

“Back to absurdity, I see.”

“And everything plays out exactly as I said before. That’s the thing about fate, you can’t escape it.”

“Well, you’re the expert. I wouldn’t think to question the academic research you must have done on fate.”

“I could, at the very least, trust you not to murder me while sleeping with me for the first time.”

“I hope you know that’s an incredibly low bar.”

“You’ve never-“

“No, Bardak.”

“Is it…is it an easy mistake to make if, you know-“

“No, Bardak,” he ground out, rolling from his side to his back. “It would be extraordinarily difficult to do it by mistake.”

“But-“

“Is there no one else you could ask about this? Poe, I’m sure, judging by his determination to make his way through my officers, could be of some assistance.”

“I can’t ask Poe,” she told him, with a sigh. “Everyone wants us to…and I don’t want to give anyone any ideas.”

“I am not the right person to have this conversation with.”

“Because you lack the experience?”

“No, not because I lack- oh, you’re joking.” His voice settled back into the comfortable coldness she’d grown accustomed to.

“Yeah, I’m joking. It’s too easy to get a rise out of you sometimes.”

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying themselves.”

“We both are, and you know it. You’re glad it was me who opened that door.”

“A low bar, again.”

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“An even lower bar, I’m sure. Are you warm now, Bardak?”

“I’m fine. When are you going to learn, General? I’m always fine.”


	8. Satellite

_Shining like a work of art_

_Hanging on a wall of stars_

_Are you what I think you are?_

_You're my satellite._

_\---_

_\---_

It was infuriating to watching Ayva sit there and recount Tion for a galactic audience. Despite her careful expressions, he could see her own discomfort highlighted in her body. Every crossed leg or strum of her fingers against the heavy wood of the table betrayed her contempt for the entire process. It shouldn't have been surprising to Armitage, given his knowledge of the woman. She'd come in defense of him and not because she suddenly respected political theater. It was particularly difficult to listen to her describe Tion, if for no other reason, it was his first awareness that she was not just another rebel he hoped to discard.

From her telling, it was the place her own consciousness had shifted.

"Did you," Baume was asking earnestly, too invested in the story to truly be impartial, "Consider you may be committing treason by saving General Hux's life?"

He saw, nearly imperceptible, the eye roll she suppressed. "No," she retorted, her voice smooth as though she was thoroughly unbothered. 

  
"Can you explain why?"

"I was never once ordered to kill anyone on-sight, and General Organa would never have wanted that," Ayva replied primly. He'd noticed she invoked Leia whenever she struggled to defend a particular bad choice. How would she rationalize for the court the coming months? 

"You don't think General Organa might have made an exception?" Szábo queried. 

"To kill a wounded individual? No, I don't think she would have ever found that tasteful."

"Do you believe General Hux would have extended you the same courtesy, if the position were reversed?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. 

"Can you explain why?"

Armitage didn't need to hear her response. He already knew. 

\--

\--

He awoke sweltering and stiff. It took him a moment to realize that, at some point in the night, they’d migrated into the center of the bed, likely searching for warmth under the threadbare blanket. He had both arms wrapped around her, which explained some of the stiffness. It did not account for the erection currently raging in his trousers. Careful not to disturb her, certain she would never allow him to forget holding her, even if it had been a mutual choice based on their shared circumstances. More practically, he didn’t need to assault her with the knowledge that, in some deep cavern of his mind, he was attracted to her.

If he was honest, it had started on Naboo with that stupid blue dress. He’d gone looking for dirty, blood stained rebel scum and instead found a beautiful woman who, truth be told, would never have given the likes of him the time of day were it not for the clandestine war he was fighting with the New Republic. He didn’t consider himself particularly insecure; it hadn’t been a lie when he told her he did okay with women. Women who spent time in the kind of bars he often found himself, way out in the Outer Rim, typically in the middle of the night. Not someone like her. Ayva looked like she belonged on canvas and ever since he’d let her slip away with Dameron, she’d haunted his every waking thought. He had hoped he might never see her again; after all, he’d been doing this for eons and had never run across her. Perhaps her stint with Dameron had been a one off, perhaps her time in his interrogation chair had scared her off.

A futile dream, he realized as he stood, letting chilly air temper the hot blood racing through his veins. She hadn’t moved, still curled on her side, her thick, blonde hair spilling around her like sunshine he could touch if he had felt so inclined. How did the senior Bardak manage to create someone like her? Idealistic to be certain, but that came with youth. He imagined she might not be hard to sway, that he could convince her to come around.

He needed to get off this soggy rock. He took a steadying breath and began to count slowly, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Murderous droids, programmed as a last-ditch effort to keep the strangle hold of the Empire even as it crumbled, were coming for them. If he had access to their control panel, he could have easily disabled them. They’d passed it on their way down, too late now to consider that possibility. He loathed the idea of jumping into the inky abyss of the water waiting below. If he knew nothing else about it, he was positive it would be shockingly cold. No small thing, even for a boy raised on Arkanis for the first five years of his life. Could she withstand such cold?

She stirred and he turned, smoothing his shirt back into his pants as the green orbs she called eyes turned on him.

“Take your shirt off,” she told him, voice still thick with sleep. His brain stuttered, just for a moment.

“What?” He asked her stupidly, his frozen hands still tucked into the waist of his pants.

“Take off your shirt,” she repeated, sitting upwards and rubbing her eyes. “Let’s see the wound.”

“It’s fine, I assure you-“

“Aren’t we beyond this? Take it off General.”

He could have argued, forced her to back down, but he wanted to see her look at him in the hazy light. He could still feel her hands on his chest, her thighs squeezed around his body and _kriff_ if he didn’t get it together, he’d show her more than just his bare chest.

He yanked the shirt upward, keeping his eyes laser focused on her own, watching as she crawled across the bed just to tumble off the edge gracelessly. She tilter her head, studying the wound and in turn, he studied her. Her eyes left his stomach, just for a moment, dilating as they moved upward. The attraction was not one sided.

“Looks good,” she said quickly, turning her back on him.

He didn’t know what to do with that information and decided to file it away for later. He grabbed his blood-stained jacket and tossed it over his shoulder. She laced her boots up quickly and he considered handing her his jacket, aware that she might as well be naked with so much exposed skin.

“Don’t put those on,” he told her, leaving his own shoes behind. “They’ll only drag you down.”

She hesitated but chose to kick them back off, following behind him with bare feet. “Can you even swim?” Insulting her felt better than the open admiration he was certain he was radiating.

“Not at all.” She bounced next to him with a bright smile that irked him. “You’ll have to act as a life float for me or I’ll drown.”

“Give my regards to the seabed, Bardak,” he replied sardonically.

“What a way to go,” she sighed as his irritation grew. He knew she was messing with him, but it brought something back up for him that had been gnawing at the edge of his mind.

“What is your obsession with dying?”

“I’m not _obsessed_ with dying,” she argued, some of her playfulness dissolving into defense. “I just happen to know whose company I stand in.”

“There will be no death for you today.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to bring us close to it another day,” she chirped, quick as a flash. It was impossible to have the last word around her.

“Are you already daydreaming about our next misadventure?” It was an absent question he barely registered, too focused on retracing their steps. Every Empire facility looked exactly the same and no one knew the fallen Empire better than him. It had been drilled into him from the moment he’d been taken from his mother, a new generation in a new Order.

She, for her part, didn’t have a response for him, stopped in place to stare at the door holding the droids back. He ignored her, just for a moment, to cross the room and see how he might get the large window open. His blaster would do, he supposed, pulling it from his belt and firing without warning. Glass shattered in a bomb like blast that forced him to the ground.

“You idiot!” Ayva shouted, stomach pressed against the dirty white floor, peering up through the arms she’d thrown over her head. “Now who has a death wish?!”

He was already back on his feet, brushing the glass from his shirt. He felt foolish, too caught up in the woman now standing next to him to think his actions through. He’d get them both killed if he didn’t get himself together.

“You’re certain you can swim?” He asked again, peering into the roiling water below.

“We just have to get to shore,” she answered, but she didn’t sound confident.

“Prepare yourself for the cold,” he told her brusquely and he swept glass from the ledge with his gloved hand.

“Maybe there’s another way, maybe-“  
The door behind them crunched. In unison, they turned to watch the body of one of the droids slide through. He grabbed her wrist and jumped, dragging her down with him before her hesitation got her killed.

He fell, suspended in the air, for what felt like a lifetime. Sometime before he collided with the water, he lost his grip on her and when he was fully submerged in freezing water, she was all he could think about. He hadn’t had time to properly warn her about shock or how to swim with the waves. They had fifteen minutes to get out of the water before their bodies shut down, a defense mechanism against the cold that would kill them. He looked for her when his head broke the surface, but she was nowhere to be found. Panic welled into his chest. “AYVA!” He yelled but his voice was lost against the wind and waves.

He had to keep moving, aware that ever minute he stayed in the water worked against him. There was something primal about being back in the water that demanded he abandon careful rationality in favor of pure instinct. He wasn’t leaving without her, he decided, inhaling deeply to sink back into the water. He had been born in water and when he was a boy, he imagined he would die there, too. Saltwater stung his eyes as he tried to see anything in the churning blue white landscape, but there was nothing but chaotic emptiness. He surfaced and turned, again, to see a yellow blob floating not far from him. Kicking hard, he reached for her, spinning her around. Blue lips and wide, green eyes filled with fear. She opened her mouth to speak but a wave crashed over them both, silencing her. He didn’t let her go as he swam, determined to get them both to shore no matter the cost.

He’d never been so grateful for sand as he was when a helpful wave gave his screaming, aching body that last little push. His freezing feet sunk into the soft sea floor and with all the strength he had left, he yanked her to her feet, his arm braced around her body. He couldn’t help but imagine how they might appear to their respective sides, half drowned, freezing, and clinging to the other like it was a lifeline. Ayva was fairing far worse and for the first time he was not confident she was going to survive. She pitched forward and somehow, with strength he didn’t know he possessed, he caught her, sweeping her up so they could keep moving. He didn’t know where she’d hidden her ship, but his command shuttle wasn’t far from the beach and more importantly, it had supplies for this exact kind of thing. He liked to be prepared for any emergency.

She was shaking violently when they got there. He set her on the floor before moving as fast as he could for his thermoregulation blankets.

“Take your clothes off,” he barked at her crumpled body, his own hands shaking hard against the belt of his pants. He turned to offer her as much privacy as the moment could afford them, quickly peeling the soaking clothing from his freezing body and wrapping a thick, gray blanket around himself. He tossed the other one in her direction and waited, counting as slowly in his mind as he could stand.

When he turned, he found her, huddled against a wall, her clothing in a heap at her feet. Only her face was visible, paler than he’d ever seen it, eyes vacant and wide. He closed the door to the shuttle and turned the heat up as high as was practical before joining her on the floor.

“I didn’t know it would be so cold,” she grounded out when she was able to speak again. He kept his eyes straight ahead, unable to look at her, not in the face of the sheer panic he’d felt when he thought she had drowned. “I thought I was going to drown.”

She was looking at him. He didn’t move.

“You didn’t have to come back for me.”

“I did,” he assured her.

They lapsed back into silence again. He kept tabs on how hard she shook as he willed his own body to stop. They’d never leave at this rate, if he couldn’t get himself under control. When his hands were barely shaking, he collected both of their clothes for the dryer. It would take thirty minutes and then they’d be free of each other. He’d be free of her.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to leave me behind?” She asked when he sat back down. Her blanket was still pulled hard against her body but more of her head was poking out, revealing semi-dried hair curling chaotically around her head. The effect was decidedly lovely.

“Easy how?” He asked absently.

“You know… enemies and all that?”

“Ah, right. I suppose I prefer you alive. Hard to have a hated nemesis if they’re dead.”

“I don’t hate you,” she interjected quickly.

“You should.”

“I know. I don’t though.”

She was looking at her fingers peeking through the edge of her blanket and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her or touch her or _anything_ that might convey how little he hated her, too. Not hating him and watching to be touched by him were two different things. He kept himself rigid in his spot on the floor, legs tucked up to his chin. Being vulnerable came so easy to her. It was as if she created a bubble around them in which he was a nobody from Arkanis and she a Coruscant native and there was nothing else but that between them.

“I don’t hate you, either,” he told her, experimenting with offering her a small amount of honesty.

She looked at him and he wondered what she saw.

“Worst nemeses’ in the Galaxy,” she joked, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Can’t even hate each other properly.”

“Would you prefer hatred?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, and that the truth of the matter, wasn’t it? They settled back into silence as he considered what it would mean to hate her. She’d still be in the water, a permanent part of Tion and he would be headed back to the Unknown Regions. He’d lived thirty-three years without any recognition of her and yet the thought of thirty-three more felt strangely bereft. Even if this was all he ever had from her, stolen moments on far-flung planets, it was better than moving through the rest of his life knowing he’d left her to die alone.

She sighed, her lips and nose a matching bright red. The blue from before had faded from her skin and she looked like a more subdued version of the woman he was so accustomed to. He was grateful for the ding of the dryer, dragging him back to reality. He left her, tossing warm clothes with his back to her, quickly dressing himself. He could hear her, out of eyeshot, which was just enough to light his brain on fire.

“I wish I had my shoes now.” Her words convinced him it was safe to turn around. All black, without the boots or her utility belt, but functionally the same person that had taken up residence in his mind.

“Would you like me to drop you back on your world?” He asked seriously, unable to stop himself. Her eyes narrowed.

“Very funny.”

“Are you far from here?”

He sensed her unease, but he couldn’t help himself- did she have to walk far, shoeless, without a weapon?

“Not that far,” she hedged. She might not hate him, but she certainly didn’t trust him. He pulled his own blaster from his belt and tossed it to her. She caught it with surprise. He pressed the release to the ramp, so she knew she was free to go. They both knew he wasn’t going to bring her back to the First Order.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he told her, his words measured. She should have turned her back on him and left; it’s what he would have done. Instead, she closed the gap between them to throw her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his for the second time in a short span of time. He froze, just for a moment, arms thrown out in surprise, before he carefully returned the gesture, his bare hands splayed across her back.

“Thank you for not letting me die,” she breathed against his neck.

“Worst nemeses’, remember?” He sounded too gruff in comparison to how softly grateful her own voice was.

She pulled out of the embrace, eyes bright and smile unguarded.

“You can try to kill me next time.” Her voice was filled with promise, but it was the ‘next time’ that gave him hope. Whatever might be happening, it was not one sided.

“I’ll hold you to that, Bardak.”

He watched her go, willing himself to stay firmly inside the shuttle and not watch where she went or follow her back. If Snoke ever found out, there would be hell to pay. His only saving grace was Snoke’s disinterest in his thoughts.

He waited until he saw her outdated x-wing zip into the atmosphere to prepare his own shuttle for departure, but his mind could only focus on one thing.

_Next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write the little future preambles after I edit my chapters, since it was sort of an after thought. Last chapter I forgot, too late, to do that so consider chapters 6 & 7 as two parts of one larger story. I have begun the process of going back through all the chapters and just writing them now, but if I know me I will quit after like, chapter 15 and forget again.


	9. All The Fucking Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! My boyfriend and I are doing THE Star Wars couples costume (he is Darth Vadar; I am Palpatine) and I thought since no one can see how excellent my Sheev makeup is, I'd upload this chapter instead!

_I don't want it all if I can't have it all_

_What's the point if we're stuck in the middle?_

_You're so composed, and I'm so dramatic._

_And you're beautiful and it hurts like hell._

_I just want you to want me all the fucking time._

_\--_

Ayva took a deep breath as Baume insisted on piecing together every moment she and Armitage had spent together. Szábo would have ended this by now; he did not share the galaxy's insatiable appetite for gossip. Ayva was half tempted to pull out a weapon and demand they end this charade now, that the testimony from Poe, Finn, and Rey ought to be enough to have made a decision on how to sentence Armitage. They were careening towards personal moments she desperately wanted to keep to herself. 

_It's the only way to clear him._

She could turn and ask Rey to help her break him out, to hide him on some far flung planet far from the reach of the Unified Republic. She turned in her seat to look back at Poe, so filled with hope that democracy could _finally_ win out, if they played by the same rules they wanted the rest of the galaxy to abide by.

"What was the question?" She asked, aware of how irritated she sounded.

"What happened on Corellia?" Baume said quickly, eyes bright. 

"Ah, right. Corellia.."

\--

\--

\--

She had hoped Tion might be her last mission for a while, that she could have a moment to breathe before she was sent to Coruscant, but the Resistance had too few ground forces to begin with. Ayva was fast becoming Leia’s favorite for ground exploration, and, if the occasion called for it, pyrotechnics. Corellia would require neither _truly_ , but Ayva had experience with Core worlds and the most extensive wardrobe of anyone outside of Leia herself. So off she’d been sent after debriefing Leia on the shenanigans of Tion. Ayva had given the General a near perfect account of Tion with one small omission: she’d left out that she could have let Hux die. She didn’t think Leia would be angry that she’d saved his life, and she knew it was more suspicious to leave the detail out than to just share it, but Ayva didn’t know how to account for it.

She found it all confusing, so she chose to just ignore it. Corellia would be the perfect distraction.

Corellia was one of the older worlds in the galaxy, with their native population spread far and wide, from the core all the way to wild space. It’s capitol, Coronet City, was built on what she surmised had once been beautiful canals, though now polluted. Coronet City, and Corellia itself, was the home of one the largest shipping industries in the galaxy and keeping that shipping industry open, along with their important shipping lanes, was why Ayva was there. Leia had sent her to dine with Maverick Ta’Ache, the governor of the world and, as she learned through the lazy research she’d done during her flight, a distant relative the royals that had one ruled the planet.

To that end, Ayva had grabbed one of her nicer dresses she’d brought with her all those years before. Floor length, long sleeved, and black, the gown hugged every curve of her body neatly, glittering softly under the setting sun. She’d left her hair down, partially because she’d had little time to do anything with it but also to conceal how exposed her back was. The dress had been designed to show as much available skin as possible under the guise of modesty. Sheer black fabric made up the bodice, cut to her collar bones, with opaque black stitching strategically covering her chest like flames licking upward. The back scooped outward, cinched into a soft, flowing skirt that began at the curve of her natural waist. She had to hold her skirt carefully as she walked through the city, so she didn’t destroy the hem with either dirt or the rough pavement beneath her.

Maverick was an older man in his fifties with dark hair graying at the temples in a way Ayva found aesthetically pleasing. Deep laugh lines denoted a friendly face, half hidden under a neatly trimmed black beard. He held his hands out when she made her way to the state house, bringing her in for a hug that, had it been someone else, might have seemed creepy or inappropriate.

“Either I am finally seeing the effects of old age or Leia has sent someone in her place!” He announced as Ayva stepped out of the embrace, a smile on her face.

“She wanted to be here,” Ayva assured him as he guided her away from the large, white columned house she assumed they would be dining in. “I am a poor replacement, but I hope to do her justice.”

“Nonsense!” He laughed, offering her a hand as they stepped upward onto a sleek, metal dock. “Any friend of Leia’s is a friend of mine.”

A large yacht was moored to the dock they were walking up, bobbing pleasantly in the placid water.

“How do you know her?”

“Through that scoundrel she calls a husband. Han and I go way back,” he told her. “I find I have more in common with Leia. I think most people do.”

She brushed several curls from her shoulder, her eyes on her feet as she moved to prevent herself from tripping over the material of her dress and pitching headfirst into the murky water. A gloved hand extended downward and Ayva accepted, the sun obscuring the face of the person offering. No glare, however, could disguise the all too familiar uniform from view. General Hux, well-groomed and crisp, watched her with a carefully guarded expression. She bit her tongue in front of her host, but she knew she was scowling.

She could hear the chatter of others coming from inside the boat. This was not what Leia had described to her at all. Ayva had been assured of a private dinner which she assumed to mean literally between her and Maverick.

“General Hux, meet…well, I don’t know your name, do I?”

“Ayva,” she said quickly. “Ayva-“

“I know Ayva,” he interrupted before she had time to think of a made-up last name. “We’ve met through other dealings.”

“Ah, of course. Leia must have a multitude of diplomatic emissary’s working on her behalf.” Hux and Ayva exchanged a glance. If it wasn’t him, she might have laughed at how ludicrous his words were, along with the idea of meeting on purely political ground. They’d only ever met on the battle ground… not that Maverick needed to know that.

“Ayva is quite the…explosive… negotiator.” Her scowl deepened as the pair followed behind Maverick. She elbowed him hard in the side, annoyed when he didn’t react to it.

“You’re not funny,” she hissed. A small smile teased on his lips though he kept his eyes focused straight ahead.

She found the elaborate nature of the yacht a bit much, which said a lot considering the circumstances in which she’d grown up. It screamed money with intention, from its expensive, gold leaf papered walls right to the hand carved dowels that adorned the furniture. Ayva also found she was the only unmarried woman in a room of men, the majority of whom had brought their wives, apparently as decoration. The only saving grace was she was appropriate dressed or, as she noted several of the other women, perhaps under dressed, and everyone seemed far more interested in getting drunk on Mavericks dime. Even Armitage had floated to the bar for a crystal glass of Corellian whiskey. She might have been tempted, had he not been there but she was still trying to untangle Tion; she didn’t need alcohol complicating things.

“How _is_ Leia?” Maverick asked Avya at dinner. Through some cruel twist of fate, he’d seated her directly next to General. Realistically she she suspected it was because they were the only two people who had come alone but emotionally, she found it distracting. What right did he have to look half as good as he did, with his neatly trimmed sideburns highlighting the masculine cut of his jaw? From her seat, she noticed how nice he smelled, like new leather mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco. She took a deep breath.

“Leia is well.” Easy, straightforward, and factual. She was attempting to channel her father’s natural ability to say so much with never actually saying anything at all, but personally she found politics, whether personal or otherwise, distasteful.

“And where is Leia, these days?” Hux asked, taking a sip from the crystal glass he’d barely let go of since they’d arrived.

“Leia is incredibly well traveled,” she replied with a sweet smile.

“I miss seeing her in the Senate,” a man replied, taking the focus off Ayva. What was his name, she knew he’d introduced himself? Bax? Jack? She swept her hair from her back to her shoulder as she tried to remember what he said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hux watching her, eyes narrowed slightly. A confrontation was looming which did not bode well given that they were currently sailing slowly down the channel. There was nowhere for either of them to escape to, even on such a large boat, and swimming was absolutely out of the question. The conversation had taken a turn towards galactic politics as food was served, one excruciating course at a time.

“How is the final stage of the Disarmament Act progressing?” Hux asked from next to her, drawing her attention back to the conversation.

“It progresses,” Jax Riyan, a senator from Coruscant, told him jovially. “Slowly of course, the act itself has become more unpopular over the years as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Hux nodded as her eyes narrowed. What where they talking about?

“It was a swing too far from the Empire,” Hugo Anassas chimed in. Ayva recalled he was a businessman from somewhere in the Core, though where exactly escaped her. “Not having a military is going to make fighting off looming threats more difficult…no offense, of course.”

Hux waved his hand as if no offense was taken. It was all so civilized. How could he politely argue with a man that, given the opportunity, would subjugate the galaxy just as the Empire had?

“I for one think Mon Mothma knew what she was doing. Coruscant already thinks too highly of itself; an all-powerful military was just asking for trouble.” Ayva didn’t even try to remember this person’s name, it hardly mattered.

“Mon Mothma was from a different time, a time when the Chancellor weaponized the Core to oppress the galaxy. We ought to update our statutes with the time and not be slaves to doctrine of the past.”

At that statement, Ayva and Hux exchanged glances, both covertly aware that, in a lot of ways, they were still embroiled in a bitter fight that had begun well before their births.

“Regardless,” Maverick interrupted as plates were removed by a butler droid, “Corellia wants to be a resource.” Ah, there it was. Maverick wanted to play every side. Ayva was only supposed to ensure he continued supporting the New Republic, and to that end, the Resistance. Maverick’s smiling eyes slid from her face to Hux’s as something sweet was set in front of her. She needed a drink. She caught the droid as the chatter shifted again.

“A drink,” she began, leaning slightly from her chair. “Spice brew.”

The droid skuttled off.

“There she is,” Hux muttered, dipping his spoon into the soft blue cake.

She turned her neck to look at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” She whispered back.

“Underneath the veneer of soft skin and pretty skirts, you’re still rebel scum.”

“You got all that from a spice brew?” She hissed.

He shrugged, spooning his desert into his mouth.

The droid brought her the drink and despite her promise that she would keep her head about her, alcohol might be the only thing that convinced her to make a break for it via dirty canal water. If nothing else, that first sip suddenly made the dinner conversation tolerable.

Dinner turned to dessert and dessert turned to straight drinks before the party began to move upward. As Ayva trailed behind, Maverick caught her elbow, isolating them both in the dining room.

“Assure Leia we are on track and prepared to meet her order,” he whispered into her hair. “I had to invite the First Order.”

He released her arm just as Hux circled back, glass refilled. “Thank you so much for the recommendation,” Ayva said smoothly. “I’ve always wanted to try whiskey but never knew where to start.”

Maverick’s eyes widened with surprise, just for a moment, but it betrayed them both. Hux was too perceptive not to notice. “Absolutely my pleasure.”

He walked past Hux, leaving the two of them alone in the dining room.

“What did he really say?” He asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass absently.

She cocked her head. “Why would I tell _you_?” With a smile, she slid past him, towards the stairs that led to the upper deck. He caught her.

“You can’t trust him,” he told her. “Leia must know that.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll let her know _General Hux_ said so.”

He let her go with a wrinkle of his nose, as if it bothered him she didn’t trust him. In fact, Ayva was inclined to believe Maverick was incredibly trustworthy if Hux found him untrustworthy. She made her way to the railing and looked upward, surprised she couldn’t see stars. She sighed, holding her drink over the ledge as she looked out at the illuminated city scape just offshore.

“Too much smog,” Hux told her, joining her at the railing.  
“Isn’t there anyone else here to talk to besides me?” She asked him with annoyance. He leaned back against the rail, craning his neck slightly so he could look at her.

“Have I done something to anger you?”

She sighed. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I was invited. Truthfully, I had hoped to speak with Leia.”

She scoffed, taking another drink. “What could you possibly have to say to Leia?”

“I thought I might thank her for the kindness you extended me on Tion.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“So you didn’t tell her?”

“Did you tell your superior?”

His face, half hidden in the darkness, twisted to a scowl. “It’s a military, not a girl’s slumber party.”

“Dear diary. Today rebel scum saved my life and I don’t know what to do. I want to eradicate all hope from the galaxy but if I get shot in the chest again, who will stitch me up? I need to reconsider, xoxo, General Hux,” she said in a mock, high pitch voice as she twirled a piece of her hair around her finger theatrically.

“Is that how you imagine me when you’re away?” He asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts.

“Oh, General, I don’t think of you at all.”

“Last week you wanted to be married, this week you never think of me.”

She turned so she was also leaning backwards on the railing, annoyed at much she enjoyed this banter that existed between them.

“I might reconsider my stance on not thinking of you,” she began.

“Oh? Name your terms.”

“You have to surrender, of course-“

“Is that all?” He rolled his eyes, though there was no bite to his tone

“Disband and allow me to personally hunt down every First Order soldier who has personally wronged me.”

“I don’t hate that idea-“

“I have also reexamined my stance on children-“

“For less, I hope.”

“And I want fifteen-“

“To build your own personal army, I assume-“

“Our wedding has a guest list of 500, all handpicked by me-“

“If you know more than 20 people, I’ll give you one hundred credits right now.”

“And you have to personally thank each and every person with a heartfelt, handwritten thank you note.”

“Well now you’re just being absurd.”

It was too easy to slide back into this dynamic with him. It made her almost forget that they were still enemies. As she battled it out in her head, he plucked her drink from her hand.

“Hey!”  
He thrust his own glass into her hands. “Corellian whiskey,” he told her as she inhaled the beverage. “Don’t _smell_ it!”

“It smells like gasoline,” she protested, rubbing her nose against the burning.

“You said you wanted to try it.”

“You _know_ I was lying,” she reminded him. Still, she pressed her lips to the glass and took a sip. What a mistake that turned out to be. The liquid burned its way down her throat exactly the way she imagined shipping fuel might. It tasted like pure fire. She choked, holding the glass away from her body as if it might combust. She doubled over as she inhaled, the more for dramatic effect than anything else.

“It’s not that bad,” he protested as she waved him off, taking a theatrically large deep breath.

“That explains so much about you,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “You drink that for _fun?_ ”

His eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It tastes like rancor shit,” she began, snatching her drink out of his hand, a hand, she noted, that was unacceptably large. Who did he think he was, walking around with hands that looked like that? She shook her head slightly, before continuing. “Rancor shit that was lit on fire and then turned to liquid. Where is the flavor, the spice?”

She expected him to protest or to scowl but to her surprise, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. In that moment, illuminated under the soft light of the city and boat, he was impossibly lovely. The realization slammed into her chest like a ton of bricks. She gripped the railing but couldn’t take her eyes off his face. She might never see him so soft again. 

“You’re absurd, Bardak-“

“Bardak?” Jax Riyan was approaching. Hux straightened immediately and she couldn’t help but notice his free hand had stolen underneath his great coat. “Are you discussing Bardak’s newest acquisition?”

His body, shifted to stand just slightly in front of her, relaxed. Her brow furrowed as his hand reappeared at his side.

“I find it personally concerning one man might hold a galactic monopoly,” Armitage replied smoothly. “But you’re in the Senate, you must know more than I.”

“Maunder decimated the anti-trust laws that would have prevented this. Bardak’s got him under his thumb what with that rumored nasty business with his daughter. Maunder’s party does control the Senate, afterall.”

Armitage glanced downward at Ayva and his reaction to Jax started to make sense. Had he planned to assassinate a Senator for possibly guessing her identity? They didn’t _hate_ each other, and maybe shared a mutual attraction for the other, _maybe,_ but there was no way either of them would go that far.

“So are you two-“

“Lovers?” Ayva asked as Hux choked on his drink. She kept her face serene as he coughed, having inhaled some of the liquid. “Yes.”

Jax couldn’t have been much older than Hux himself, and was handsome in an obvious sort of way that Ayva personally appreciated, though she was not interested in. He raised blonde eyebrows as if he found her admission surprising.

“And you…work for Leia?”

“What can I say, when it’s right, it’s right.”

“Would you excuse us?” Hux gasped out, grabbing her arm and dragging her off to the back of the deck, far from the rest of the party. “Are you _insane?_ ”

“Oh, was that personally inconvenient for you?” She asked innocently as he loomed over her.

“I have to interact with these people. How will I explain that I _murdered you_ when I meet them next?”

“Tell them that in a heat of passion, you lost control and-“

His hand clapped over her mouth, catching her by surprise. “Have I offended you?”

She stared up at him, eyes huge, until he removed his hand. “Offended me, no. You forget that once, you ordered your men to interrogate me with a _droid._ ”

He clicked his tongue with exasperation. “And?”

“And now I get to torture you emotionally just like you tortured me physically. When you see Riyan next and he asks you how I am, you can tell him the last time you saw me, I was all tied up but seemed fine. I promise it will do little to damage your reputation.”

He took a careful step forward, removing what little distance remained between them. “Are you so sure about that?”

“When has sleeping with a beautiful woman ever hurt a man, publicly or privately?” She asked, her voice too breathless for her liking. She’d drank too much, she was too bold even by her standards.

“Is that an offer?”

Her breath caught in her throat as his hand hovered between them, pausing before ever touching her face. Maverick interrupted, announcing their arrival back at the dock. “Let’s continue this indoors,” he said cheerfully, his words slightly slurred. She took her eyes of Hux, stepping around him and taking her first real breath since they’d gone back there.

“Will you join us, Ayva?” Maverick asked. “I would be honored to put you up for the evening.”

“I really should get back-“

“Nonsense! Stay, drink!”

Behind her, Hux stood and though he kept his distance, she could feel his body heat radiating.

“I really can’t,” she said with a smile.

“Another time!” Maverick finally agreed, leaving Ayva to navigate the dark, steep steps back to the dock. Hux grabbed her elbow as she tripped, nearly stumbling into the inky water beneath them.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she told him, grabbing her skirt in her hand and walking as quickly as she could, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. He had other ideas, catching her again, spinning her around to face him just on the edge of the state house.

“If Riyan had recognized me,” she said before he could say whatever he wanted. “If he’d come over and said, ‘Bardak? Ayva Bardak?’ what would you have done?”

She couldn’t read his face, hidden by the darkness.

“I would have shot him,” Hux told her smoothly, as if he were commenting on the color of grass or the weather around them.

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Why?” She asked, so soft it was barely a whisper.

He stepped forward, illuminating his face under the light of the house behind them. He looked dangerous as he regarded her. “I’m not going to hand you over to a politician.”

“Because you want to be the one to hand me over?”

“To Bardak? I think not.”

“Then what-“

“Don’t ask me that,” he snapped. “I don’t know.”

She spun on her heel, her skirt fanning around her.

“Wait-“

She tried to escape, needing to put the planet far behind her. She needed to put Hux behind her. It was infuriating how much faster he was, the benefit of long legs not hindered by too tall shoes. He grabbed her by the waist and, spinning her again, pulled her against his body. Their faces were inches from each other.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he told her. She could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“You’re drunk,” she accused, though she did nothing to separate them.

“That’s what I’ll tell myself in the morning,” he promised before bringing his lips down to hers. She pressed her hands against his chest, intending to push him off, but the moment their mouths touched her entire body lit up like a firecracker, taking with it, every inch of resolve she had left. His arm snaked around her waist, holding there as they kissed each other, unconcerned who might see them on the cobble stones. Her hands slid upwards to his neck, cupping just under his jaw as his own available hand twisted into the back of her hair.

When the kiss ended, they stood there, eyes closed, foreheads touching.

“Kriff.”


	10. Dark Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: Today is stressful, no matter what. I'm not here to judge how you cope with that stress, but I wanted to validate that it was very real. To that end, I've added two chapters telling, essentially, the same story from differing perspectives. I'm doing this, in part, because why not? It makes sense to put them together. Also, and this isn't to say that in order to update I require this, but I got some ABSURDLY lovely reviews that really changed my week and I really, REALLY appreciated all the kind words and the time people took to write them. 
> 
> Also, these upcoming chapters are some of my favorites. I'll remind everyone later, but it's important to know that my academic interests is in Roman history, and you'll see that reflected in the names.

_Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition_

_So I'll swim, I'll swim as the water rises up_

_Sun in sinking down and now all I can see are the planets in a row_

_Suggesting it's best that I slow down_

_This nights a perfect shade of dark blue_

_\--_

Ayva resisted the urge to run her hands over her face, aware it would smear all the make-up she'd put on in front of a galactic audience already bent on scrutinizing her every word. Szábo was glowering down at her as Baume attempted to conceal her grin.

"Did you kiss him back?" Baume breathed as Szábo crossed his arms in his chair.

"Yes," Ayva ground out.

"Was Leia aware of this kiss?" Szábo snapped.

"She did not keep a tracking collar on me, if that's what you're asking," Ayva replied quickly with instant regret. 

"Why did he kiss you?" Baume interrupted before Szábo could take her task for her attitude.

"I could only speculate."

Baume frowned. They may have kissed, but that didn't turn them into excellent communicators over night. 

"You never talked about it?" Baume pressed.

There was no way around it. "Once, on Mekeb."

"Go on, please, Ms. Bardak."

\--

\--

\--

It seemed, for whatever Hux might have thought about Maverick, he’d come through in a small way; by the time Ayva had arrived, Maverick had already sent word to Leia that they were ahead of schedule with the resurgent-class star destroyers she’d ordered, and as an aside, asked that it was Ayva who came to pick them up, when the time came.

“I knew he’d like you,” Leia told Ayva, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “He always had a weakness for blondes.”

“Glad to know I could help,” Ayva replied dryly, though she felt no true malice towards her superior. Leia never did anything that wasn’t carefully thought out, and Ayva was certain that Leia would never send her to meet an old friend that might hurt her. At least intentionally.

Ayva was, in all honesty, too distracted to really consider what Leia’s motivations might have been in the first place. She’d warned the General that Maverick was, at the very least, playing all sides which didn’t seem to surprise Leia, nor did the fact that General Hux was there.

Ayva had left out the kiss, convinced nothing good could come from telling Leia but also because she had no idea how she should feel about it. She had been replaying it in her mind over and over, reliving the moment with a mixture of soft lust tinged with horror. On the one hand, the man could kiss, and she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t liked it. She could have pushed him off her or hit him or even shot him for the offense but she’d kissed him back. She had, when it ended, taken off running and to his credit, he hadn’t followed her.

Had he realized he was kissing, as he so elegantly described her, scum and was also filled with the same horror? She’d refrained from reaching out, too afraid of the response she might get. What if he had no regrets at all? What if he was filled with nothing but regret?

_You’re being ridiculous._

To take her mind off Hux and his stupid mouth, Ayva was taking herself on a field trip. Sanctioned by Leia, Ayva was travelling to the Mid-Rim to the planet Makeb to venture into their abandoned mines for isotope-5. Isotope-5 was rare, supposedly only found on Makeb, and had been harvested by the Empire decades before. Ayva wanted to create blasters that functioned more like rocket launchers, without all the bulk, and to do that, she needed something a little stronger than dedlanite. She’d been researching it for a while and before her expeditions, had thought she might send Poe out to collect some. However, Ayva had been officially made part of the rebel ground forces by General Caluan Emmat, and for the trouble she’d given General Hux during his interrogation, had found herself Lieutenant Bardak. It had been too much, all tainted by the fact that as Emmat praised her for her bravery, all she could think about was kissing the enemy.

Makeb was the perfect distraction. Empty, polluted by the empire, and almost certain to go wrong, Ayva was looking forward to getting her head back on straight and coming back with something that would make their small ground army a lethal force to be reckoned with. At least then she might feel like she’d earned the rank of Lieutenant.

When Emmat had warned Ayva that Makeb was polluted, she’d brushed him off. She’d grown up on Coruscant, so polluted that its atmosphere was completely man made. She knew what pollution was. At least, she _thought_ she had, but Makeb made Coruscant look like a sparkling paradise. Thick gray and green clouds hung visible from space, and as Ayva descended from the atmosphere, the planet shook so hard that her ship blared a warning to turn back. She silenced the warning, landing on a flat mesa covered in lush greenery. Emmat had warned her that the Empire had drilled so deeply into Makeb’s core that it had messed with the planet’s gravity, though he wasn’t sure how. When she stepped out, she thought she felt lighter, though breathing the air felt heavy and thick. In a way, it was a lot like D’Qar in that sense, though D’Qar’s heaviness came from its humidity and Makeb’s climate felt more temperate.

Though the Empire had long since abandoned Makeb, the infrastructure they’d left behind made moving between the mesa’s easier. Without all the bridges, Ayva would have been forced to jump across clearances or scale up and down. Some gorges fell so deeply she thought they might go directly to the planet’s core itself, though it could have just been the low hanging fog that made them look so deep and foreboding.

“Lieutenant Bardak,” her comm crackled. “Have you made contact on the planet?”

“General Emmat,” she replied with a small thrill, “I have, I’m coming up on the mine now.”

“Have you experienced a ground quake?”

“One, in atmosphere.”

“Remember, you are the priority, not the isotope. If your safety is compromised, return without it.”

“Copy that.”

She slid the comm back into her utility belt as she came on the entrance of one of the mines. Build into the side of a mesa, the metal frame was covered in lush, thick greenery snaking upwards. It seemed in the Empire’s absence, the vegetation was taking back the planet, just like on Tion. She was admiring the greenery when the sound of an approaching ship forced her attention upward. She recognized the lines of the ship moving downward.

“General,” she spoke, her comm back in hand. “First Order approaching.”

There was a moment of silence before he replied. “There is nothing on official channels. It may just be a scout.”

A scout indeed, she thought darkly as she hid in the entrance of the mine, waiting to see who appeared. The ramp to the shuttle descended loudly and with it, three scout troopers marched downwards, blaster in hand, followed by the man himself. Could he give her no peace? She was genuinely starting to believe he was tracking her somehow.

“Spread out,” he ordered crisply, the lapel of his great coat turned upward, giving him a sinister vibe. “Dameron could not have gone far.”

So he was tracking Poe. That made more sense considering the ship she was in had been flown by Poe a multitude of times, though it had been a while. Poe preferred the X-Wing to the RZ-1 A-Wing Ayva often took, though he could fly anything. The A-Wing was intuitive enough that _anyone_ could fly it, even someone as flight-challenged as her.

“Should we check the mine?” One of the troopers asked. She pressed her back against the wall so he wouldn’t see her, waiting for a response.

“No one is stupid enough to go in there,” Hux finally replied, his tone dismissive. “Not even Dameron.”

“That’s what you think,” she whispered with some relief. She grabbed her flashlight and began walking in the mines, inhaling cool, musty air. It felt better than outside, and she wondered if that was an omen. She ran her hands along moist dirt as she descended into the planet, stopping only once when the ground shook, raining clods of dirt around her. She’d reached stairs, built into the earth by the Empire, when a blaster shot ricocheted off the metal support beam above her.

“Confirmation on Dameron!” The scout said. Ayva rolled her eyes as her flashlight fell from her hands and clattered down the stairs. Whipping out her blaster, she fired back with irritation, watching the trooper drop. How had she not realized she was being tracked?

“What would Poe need with isotope-5?” She muttered, stepping down carefully. She could see the beam from her flashlight below her, revealing a metal landing. There was no railing and without a light to guide her, she slid down on her butt to avoid falling into a dark abyss. She’d just touched the landing when more blaster fire rained downward.

“Oh, come on!” She called, unsure where to go. “You’re going-!” Her words were cut off by two things happening simultaneously. A shot glanced off her exposed middle, grazing the skin with a scorching intensity that sent the flashlight flying from her hands for a second time. As she reached for her blaster, the ground shook with violence again, causing her to miss her shot. She didn’t see where her shot landed, but she was certain it was what de-stabled some of the metal framing around her and, in turn, caused the mine to collapse around them. The landing under her feat groaned before giving way, sending her falling downward. She heard herself scream, though everything moved slowly. She landed hard on something sharp, enveloped in darkness. The shaking stopped, replaced by the sound of shifting earth and then deafening silence.

She tried to sit up and get her bearings, but an excruciating sharpness stopped her. Gasping loudly, she thought at first it was the blaster wound until she touched her middle and found something jagged and pointed piercing through her skin. She’d been impaled, she realized. Warm liquid promised blood. She breathed out in a controlled motion, trying to keep herself from panicking.

“Just pull it out Ayva,” she told herself. “Don’t over think it-“

“Bardak?!” Hux’s voice echoed from somewhere above her.

“Yep,” she replied as she leaned her head back onto the ground beneath her. “Of course you’re here.”

Light shone from above, revealing she had fallen much farther than she’d originally thought.

“Pull nothing out!” He instructed.

She didn’t listen, her hand already gripping the shrapnel so hard she could feel it cutting into the skin of her palms. It had to come out if she wanted to get out of here; she couldn’t walk with this protrusion. She could hear the sliding of dirt and rock, promising his descent towards her. Gritting her teeth, she ripped it upward, screaming as it left her body.

“You _idiot!”_ Hux shouted from above her. She tossed it away from her body, panting hard. She pressed her hand against her stomach, suddenly terrified by the amount of blood she felt. His feet hit the ground, bringing light with him. His face was covered in dirt and blood from a cut above his eyebrow and his hair was disheveled. He looked absurd. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her mouth, even has anxiety swirled heavy in her chest.

“Why are you here?” She asked as he pointed the light down at her body.

“Tracking Dameron,” he replied, sinking to his knees. “Oh Bardak…”

She was still laughing, her head turned to the side so she didn’t have to look at him. She felt his gloved hand on her stomach, touching before he withdrew it quickly.

“You shouldn’t have pulled that out,” he said anxiously.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she told him, finally leaning upward on her elbows to look down. A massive gash just to the side of her belly button was spilling blood down her body. She touched it as her mind tried to process what she was seeing. “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’re in shock,” Hux told her as he pulled his coat off. “You need to get out of here.”

She looked around. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you always trying to kill me?” She asked him as he lifted her upward into his lap so he could drape his coat around her.

“I was _trying_ to kill Dameron,” he replied testily.

“You know, this was my first outing as Lieutenant Bardak,” she told him, craning her neck upward so she could look at him. “If I survive this, they’re going to strip me of it-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, adjusting her so she was pressed against his chest in a near sitting position. “Lieutenant is beneath you, I should imagine. Commander Bardak, Captain Bardak, General Bardak certainly and if your superiors can’t see that, I question their decision-making capabilities.”

She heard the sound of fabric ripping and then pressure around her stomach. “I think I miss the days I didn’t leave base.”

“More nonsense. What do you need isotope-5 for, anyway? Running low on data pad battery?”

“If I told you, you’ll steal it from me.”

He’d made a makeshift tourniquet, she realized, looking down. “That’s not going to hold,” she told him.

“It will,” he insisted, hoisting her to her feet, an arm around her middle to help support her. A wave of nausea slammed into her, sending her doubling over. Her knees buckled as her head swung downward violently. Without hesitation, he swept her upwards, though she heard him grunt softly from the effort it took to keep her from hitting the ground.

“Tell me what you’re working on,” he said, shifting her weight slightly. “And hold this.” She took the handle of the flashlight and pointed it away from their bodies, her head pressed against his chest.

“Did you take your shirt off?” She asked, realizing she was touching skin.

“It’s wrapped around your body,” he replied as they began to walk. She closed her eyes in an attempt to stave off another wave of nausea. “What are you working on?”

“Blasters,” she told him, her eyes heavy. “Gonna make them so they blow your stormtroopers up.”

“Why not use dedlanite?” He replied reasonably. “You could steal that easily.”

“Tried it,” she continued. “Makes them faster, but not more explode-y.”

“ _Explode-y?_ Are you awake?”

“Mmm,” she murmured, wishing he’d stop talking so she could sleep.

“Stay awake Bardak. Keep talking to me.”

“How would you build them?” She asked, her voice thick. Why was it so hard to form words?

“I’d add reactor,” he replied quickly, stumbling slightly. “And a compressor chamber specific to the dedlanite. You could use air to pressurize it and a reactor to stabilize it-“

“You’re just describing a rocket launcher,” she complained. “It needs to be small.”

“Scale it down then, but it’s going to be bigger than the average blaster even if you’d managed to do it with isotope-5 to make it stable. Unless you’ve decided to join me and are trying to blow your own army up.”

“Do you know how many tiny pieces I’d need to build that many reactors?” She asked, aware that she’d let the flashlight droop. She yanked it back upward, though her vision stayed firmly on the man carrying her. “I’d have to break into too many of my dad’s buildings and then I’d have to blow them up, it seems like a lot of paperwork on your end.”

“I don’t account for your father’s inability to keep his warehouses properly secured,” Hux replied easily. “Though you may provoke the ire of Captain Phasma.”

“Probably doesn’t take much to do that,” Ayva noted. “Where are we going?”

“Up,” he said. “I hope.”

“Everything looks dark blue,” she told him, aware of how slow she was talking. “That’s not normal, I think?”

“Keep talking. What else are you working on?”  
“Why did you kiss me?”

His silence gave her a moment to let the dark and warm really wash over her. Talking, thinking, it took effort and giving in to her exhaustion felt easier.

“I wanted to,” he said. He sounded far away. Some corner of her mind recognized his voice was filled with panic, but she was too far way to really consider why. “Bardak...? Ayva? Ayva, open your eyes.”

She didn’t hear anything else he said as she slipped beneath the warm, dark blue waves.

Peace.


	11. Black and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, part 2

_Call it a rivalry, call it a fight_

_Call it what you want, cause I need you tonight_

_Call it a waste of time, call it right_

_But don't call it off_

_Just call it black and white_

\---

Armitage wondered if any of his former men were watching this play out with surprise. He liked to think he'd been a fair General, but one without much capacity for mercy. Especially not when it came to helping the wounded enemy. He should have left her there to die; it's what his training dictated. Ayva told this story because it satiated Baume's curiosity but he recognized political theater when he saw it. She _could_ have excluded it and skipped straight to Coruscant. There was no real need to tell the galaxy how she nearly let herself bleed to death because she was incapable of following simple commands. 

Telling this story humanized him. He watched her carefully, scrutinizing her facial expressions and picked apart the word choices she used. Was he a monster? Perhaps, but Ayva offered a contradicting portrait of a man who was all-too human, if anyone cared to see it. He didn't know how it made him feel, to let the galaxy see him through her eyes. There were moments in which he was certain he would die here and nothing she could say would stop that. 

Still. He looked back to the screen, where Ayva was still talking. Ayva had never quit, had she? Even when things became impossible, when it would have been easier to just hate him, she still tried. 

He could do that, too. For her.

\--

\--

\--

They were above ground, under the hazy light of the blue-green polluted sky. He was exhausted, panting from the exertion of carrying her out of the mines while trying to keep her awake. He set her onto the grass, her body bundled beneath his too-big great coat. Gingerly, he moved the edges back when he was no longer able to rouse her. Her face was so soft, so serene that, were it not for the brilliant blue and purple bruising spreading across her abdomen, he might have thought the stress of the collapse had gotten to her and she’d fallen asleep. His white shirt, ripped and tied into a makeshift bandage, was stained brilliant red. He lifted her again, aware that any medic worth their salt would have cautioned against moving some with as much internal bleeding as she had. It couldn’t be helped; if he left her there, she’d die.

He got her to his shuttle, setting her body on the floor as he rummaged through a med kit. Bacta and wound packing, though it would only slow down the bleeding happening inside her body. She needed a medic. His mind raced as he gathered her back into his lap. He pressed the trigger on the wound packing gun, watching white foam fill the space in her stomach. Blood stopped pouring outward, bringing him a small amount of relief. He pressed the bacta pack over top it in an attempt to prevent sealing an infection inward and then just held her for a moment. If he took her back to the First Order and instructed them to save her life, she’d be put in the position to switch sides or be thrown back into another cell before she was executed.

He could leave here there and hope she held out long enough for her compatriots to rescue her, but what if they didn’t realize anything was wrong for days? She had, at most, hours. He had a home on Arkanis, located in the Outer Rim, it would take him about two hours to get there from here if he ignored all the rules around hyperspace lanes and jumped to lightspeed from the planet’s atmosphere.

How had it come to this? He should have left her in the mines to die; his training demanded it. It was treason to consider any course of action that would keep her alive, and yet the idea that he would never hear her voice making fun of him again filled him with cold dread. He was too far over the line to be rational now.

A comm crackled from her utility belt, interrupting his thoughts. It seemed to rouse her slightly. Her hand jerked towards it, though her eyes remained firmly shut. He grabbed it, unsure what to do.

“Lieutenant Bardak,” a voice commanded. “Status update?”

He took a deep breath. She would be forced to explain this later. What did he care?

“This is General Armitage Hux with the First Order,” he stated into the comm, hoping he sounded authoritative and not panicked. “I am with Lieutenant Ayva Bardak on Mekeb.”

Silence on the other end ticked by as his heart pounded. “She is currently bleeding out on the floor of my command shuttle,” he continued, aware the entire situation was utterly absurd. “She needs a medic. I am requesting a temporary armistice so someone may come and collect her.”

“This is Commander Poe Dameron,” a voice replied tersely. “Requesting coordinates to your location.”

“Grid coordinates Q-13,” Hux replied quickly. “ETA?”

“Ninety minutes.”

He set the comm down with some relief. Dameron was on the way and wherever he was coming from, he wasn’t far. He would give Dameron exactly ninety minutes before he took her back to the Unknown Regions with him, damn the consequences.

He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, gathering her body into his body, recovered in his coat. “Hey,” he half whispered, shaking her gently. He watched her eyelids flutter.

“Hm?” She replied. That was encouraging.

“You have to stay awake.”

“I’m so tired,” she complained, nestling into his body. “Later.”

There would be no later if she slipped into unconsciousness. “Now,” he insisted. Her eyes opened again and looked upward. “Dameron is on his way to get you.”

“You called Poe?” She asked, her forehead scrunching up with confusion. “You should leave me.”

“Ridiculous,” he dismissed.

“He’ll kill you.”

Ah. She wasn’t asking to be left for dead, she was concerned for him. He found it oddly endearing. He was officially in over his head he thought as he brushed blood stained blonde curls off her face. Everything he’d assured himself after Corellia, that she meant nothing and it had just been that dress and the alcohol that had driven him to kiss her, flew out of his head. There was no militant aligned with the Republic he ever would have carried out of a collapsing mine when leaving them to die underground would have served him so much better.

She wasn’t scum, though, was she?

“Why did you kiss me?” He asked her, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“I like you,” she replied with a soft sigh. “You have a good face. Stupid belief system, but a good face.”

He chuckled in spite of himself as hope bloomed in his chest. She’d left so quickly he thought he’d misjudged her intentions and turned her against him for good.

“If I don’t die-“

“You’re not going to die,” he interjected with a fierceness that took him by surprise. There was no end to what he was willing to do to prevent her from dying.

She scowled. “If I don’t die,” she repeated, too pretty for her own good. “You could do it again?”

“Are you asking?”

“Yes. You never said why you kissed me. You did it first, remember?”

“I remember,” he replied, pulling her closer to him. “I kissed you because I wanted to. You have a good face. Stupid ideology, but a good face.”

“You like me so much, it makes you look stupid.” She said with a smile.

“Let’s not get carried away now,” he urged, encouraged by her teasing.

“Hey General?”

“Armitage,” he corrected, wanting to hear his name on her lips.

“Armitage?”

“Hm?”

She titled her head slightly so she could see him. “When you’re ready to leave, I’ll help you.”

“What makes you think I’ll ever want to leave?”

She smiled softly. “Hope, I guess.”

“Perhaps you’ll leave and join me?”

“Right, as Empress, I forgot. Subjugate the galaxy, thirteen children, how silly-“

“ _Thirteen?”_

“Well, now that I know you like me, I assumed I’d need to readjust-“

“I _liked_ you well enough in the times of eleven children.”

“Fourteen.”

“You’ll get one child in and quit,” he replied dryly. “I’m told it hurts.”

“Well, what else is new? You hurting me, me suffering quietly-“

“Is that so?”

“What’s going to happen to you?” She asked suddenly, the humor draining from her face. “You’re going to be in trouble?”

_Yes._ He could hide a lot, but Snoke would catch wind of this somehow, someday. He’d have to account for his time here, his dead men, his lack of a shirt. There would be hell to pay.

She didn’t need to know any of that.

“I’ll be fine. The benefits of being the boss.”

“You’re not though, right? Snoke, he’s the boss I thought? Won’t he be angry?”

Leia informed her officers better than he had imagined.

“A small price to pay,” he assured her. It was, after all, the truth.

“Want to know something?” She asked, her hand reaching upward as if she wanted to touch him but couldn’t muster the energy. He caught it before it fell back to her body, squeezing her freezing skin against the warmth of his own.

“Yes.”

“When I was a little girl, I wanted to be just like my dad.” Her green eyes were staring into the void, glassy from the blood loss. He lifted the coat again and grimaced. There was so place on her stomach that wasn’t covered in purple.

“I wanted to be just like him,” she repeated through a deep breath. “Studied weapons, learned to fight. Thought if I just tried harder, it would make him…love me?”

“Don’t do this Ayva-“

“Stop talking,” she replied breathlessly. “Nothing was ever going to. Whatever your father did to you, you don’t have to keep trying-“

“I’m not-“

I’m just saying,” she interrupted. “I’ll help you.”

The sound of an incoming ship stopped him from arguing with her. With as much care as he could, he lifted her back into his arms and stepped out, instantly irritated. A grey and red Marketta-class shuttle was descending, flaked on either side by X-Wings. He couldn’t come alone?

“Do you still see dark blue?” He asked her. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his open chest.

“Yes,” she murmured. Dameron appeared from one of the X-Wings, blaster drawn as Hux stood his ground, aware he was at a disadvantage holding her. It wasn’t even a question that he’d set her down to arm himself; if Dameron wanted to kill him, this was how he would go. F

From the shuttle, General Emmat appeared, blaster drawn, two other soldiers stepping carefully behind him. The final X-Wing revealed pilot Paige Tico, her dark eyes laser focused on Ayva.

“Walk forward _slowly_ ,” Poe ordered. Ayva’s head turned in his arms, her blonde hair spilling over her face.

“Poe?” She asked, perhaps forgetting he had told her Poe was coming. “Don’t shoot him,” she asked Hux.

“Hardly a concern,” he replied darkly. He followed Poe’s orders, taking slow steps forward.

“Does he look mad?” She whispered. In spite of himself, he took his eyes off Poe to glance down at Ayva, a smile cracking his lips.

“Mad? At you?”

“For the blood?”

“Ayva,” he began, his voice only half serious. “Would you like me to kill him and take you back with me?”

“No,” she replied earnestly, unaware he was mostly teasing. He was a foot from Poe before he looked back up at the man he’d come to kill.

“What did you do to her?” Poe asked, holstering his blaster.

“This was supposed to be an armistice,” Hux retorted as set Ayva on her feet. Poe was quick to sweep her back up.

“You’re not dead, right?” Poe shot back before turning his back to the General. His eyes slid from Ayva back to Tico, who was regarding him with a curious expression.

“Why are you doing this?” She called as Poe handed Ayva off to General Emmat.

He didn’t respond, turning to all of them, aware of how ridiculous he must look in just his uniform pants and her blood. He’d done exactly as he promised and as far as he was concerned, he owed them nothing else. For all their faults, he knew none of them would intentionally let her die. Poe especially.

He waited until they departed, giving them a two-minute head start before following behind. Before he jumped to hyperspace so he could vanish back into the Unknown Regions, he pulled his data pad out and sent the one word he should have asked her after Corellia.

_Safe?_


	12. Infinite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! It's been a stressful weekish, but I'm still here, and more importantly, I have just a semester left until I am FREE forever. Amazing.

_I wanna breathe like I'm brand new_

_Why can't I feel like I'm supposed to?_

_Don't you feel the pressure I do?_

_Tell me this will end soon_

_My mind's running away a mile a minute, I can't shake it off_

_A free fall, I'd give anything to make it stop_

_How can I be an optimist when all this feels infinite?_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. It was unbelievable to everyone that Hux could have both saved her life, despite his track record of doing so, and that he'd send her back to the Resistance. It seemed to catch both Szábo and Baume off guard, who were staring down at their notes while Ayva gulped water. She didn't relish telling the next part of the story, if for no other reason than it filled her with shame. She got to be the hero, sitting here, while laying out for the galaxy why she had avoided the same fate as Hux. 

Not for the first time, she wished she could rub her eyes and escape testifying. Was it accomplishing anything? Here, trapped in the middle of it, she felt like she was wasting her time. The Unified Republic was just a facade, one she just barely cared about. Sometimes she thought that, had it note been for the authoritarian aspects of Hux's military, she might have agreed with a lot of what he stood for. 

"So...he saved your life," Baume said slowly, as if no other words came to mind.

"Correct," Ayva replied, a sharpness to her tone.

"Just tell us what happened next," Szábo told her, his irritation obvious.

She looked back down at the table. "I woke up..."

\--

\---

\--

Ayva woke in a panic. Maybe it was the sound of the machines or the brightness that suddenly flooded her eyes. Whatever it was, it convinced her she was back with the First Order. As some of the memories of Mekeb began flooding back, she was convinced Hux must have brought her back with him.

“Ayva!”

Before she could register Poe’s voice, she’d ripped the needles from her arms with too much violence and elbowed him hard in the face. He grabbed her around her middle as a medic came running in.  
“She’s not okay!” Poe panted, struggling against the furious writhing of her body. She couldn’t calm the panic that urged her to fight back as hard as she could. As she began to recognize the people around her, something sharp jabbed into her side. Cold ice flooded through her body, bringing with it, a strange kind of peace. She slumped, her legs suddenly too soft to support her weight, as the medic began wrapping gauze bandaging around her arms to stop the bleeding, she’d induced from removing her IV.

“You’re safe,” Poe told her, rubbing her hair with his hand as they sat against a wall, her pressed against his chest as her breathing slowed.

“Thought you were First Order,” she half-slurred. “Don’t want to go back.”

“I know,” he murmured, still stroking her hair. “You’re safe now.”

She drifted back to sleep, sitting there like that, her dreams a strange mixture of fear and concern. When she woke the second time, Poe was there, draped in a metal chair, asleep too. A new IV had been placed in her hand, the needle surrounded by fresh purple and blue bruising. She didn’t want to know what the rest of her arms looked like.

“Poe?” She whispered, sitting up in the sterile bed in the medbay.

“Don’t rip the needle out!” He shouted, jerking awake quickly. He relaxed when he saw her sitting there, hands resting in her lap, watching him with wide eyes. “It’s…uh, bad for your veins, I guess.”

She nodded, unsure what to say. It wasn’t as if she’d done it intentionally; in the moment, the perceived danger outweighed whatever damage she inflicted to herself.

“What _happened_ , Ayves?” Poe asked her, rubbing his eyes hard with his palms.

“I don’t know where to start,” she told him, raking her fingers through her hair. Memories were flooding back, half hidden in a haze of blue that made it seem as if they’d happened in another life and she only just remembered them. What she remembered best was Hux’s face, too pale, his eyes filled with fear. She blinked several times, trying to reconcile that. How had they gotten here, where the possibility of her death could bring them to the point of calling their most hated enemies for help?

She knew, if nothing else, how she felt about it. His face evoked a burning feeling in her stomach, accompanied by a near overwhelming urge to speak to him. Somewhere on Mekeb, without even knowing it, she’d crossed the same line he had when he kissed her. She couldn’t go back even if she wanted to.

There were things she knew she could tell Poe, like having sympathy for him and feeling a strange connection. There were things she _couldn’t_ tell him, like the kiss or how she’d like to do it again.

“General Organa thinks you two have a connection,” Poe told her like it pained him to say it. “I keep telling her you don’t have a connection with Hux, no one could but…”

“But we do,” she said with a soft exhale.

“ _How?_ ”

“It just happened…I don’t know how it started. One minute we were trying to kill each other and the next we were almost friends. Sometimes…sometimes I feel like I could have been him, if things had been just a little different.”

“You would never have been anything like him, Ayves. You’re a _good person._ He doesn’t know anything about that.” Poe told her vehemently.

“I think he _does_ know something about being a good person. He could have left me down in that mine to die.”

“Maybe this is some kind of trick-“

“No. He climbed down to where I was and carried me out.” She wanted Poe to know for some reason. Like, if she could convince Poe then she would be alone in her belief that he could be saved. More than anything else, she wanted that to be a fact. Before Mekeb, it had just been her, disobeying the Resistance for him, but he’d done something she _never_ would have done, regardless of the circumstances. Ayva would have brought him back to the Resistance base and hoped for the best, and she knew it would have been easier for him to do the same. He’d thought about what she wanted when he’d called for help. How could Poe think he wasn’t redeemable?

“So _what_?” Poe retorted, his voice rising slightly. “So he cares about one person. What about all the other lives he’s destroyed?”

“I wasn’t excusing him!” She argued. “I was just saying-“

“You know, I can’t listen to this. You sound like Leia right now with all this sympathy for the devil.” He stood abruptly and strode towards the door of the medbay. “He tried to kill you, Aves. Whatever he’s done to atone for that doesn’t make him a good person.”

He left her to marinate in her frustration, both with him and the situation at hand. With one gesture, Hux had created possibly the worst situation she’d ever been in. Poe was angry, the rest of the Resistance likely had questions Ayva was not prepared to answer.

It would have been easier to sleep, but Ayva had been asleep for days. She stayed in bed until the medic, side eyeing her the entire time, released her from care, though Ayva was positive it was because she didn’t want any more fights breaking out and not because she was fully healed.

She had just stepped out of the door with Emmat intercepted her.

“With me, Bardak,” he told her tersely. Ayva swallowed, following behind her commanding officer, all the way to the war room. Only Leia awaited them, her face unreadable.

“Let me start off by saying that I am grateful you’re not dead,” Emmat began, taking a place next to Leia. Ayva kept her back to the door, facing them both. “Preserving your life was always our priority. To that end, can you explain why this message was transmitted through your comm?”

He pressed a button as Ayva’s heart raced.

_“This is General Armitage Hux with the First Order. I am with Lieutenant Ayva Bardak on Mekeb. She is currently bleeding out on the floor of my command shuttle. She needs a medic. I am requesting a temporary armistice so someone may come and collect her.”_

The silence left in the wake of Hux’s voice was deafening. Ayva didn’t recall that moment and it felt surreal to hear him speaking to the Resistance at all, let alone with a request for peace, however temporary.

“What happened on Mekeb?” Emmat asked.

How did she answer that? To truly tell the story, she had to start from the beginning, strapped in a chair, daring Hux to kill her.

“Why don’t you tell us how it started,” Leia interjected softly, as if she could read Ayva’s mind.

She exhaled. “I don’t know how it started,” she finally said. “I don’t think he does either. We…I think we became friends.”

Neither Emmat nor Leia said anything, exchanging an unreadable glance as her words hung in the air. It wasn’t entirely true, but how could Ayva tell them that their bond extended far beyond a shaky friendship? Would they understand the underlying attraction when she herself barely understood it?

“Friendship,” Emmat finally said. “How would you define that?”

She looked upward at the dark, concrete ceiling wishing she could disappear into the ground beneath her, never to be seen again.

“What I think is more important,” Leia interjected, perhaps recognizing Ayva’s inability to answer the question. “Is that Ayva has a link to the First Order that could prove to be beneficial to preserving the Republic.”

In all her imaginings, never did Ayva think that Leia might consider what her link to Hux might mean for the Resistance as a whole. How was she supposed to be a useful asset to them if she had feelings for him? Ayva wanted to turn him, not spy on him.

Emmat seemed to have a similar concern. “He _might_ care for her, but I doubt he’s going to start sharing his secrets with her.”

Ayva agreed. They, as a rule, had never discussed their personal motivations for why they ended up places, what their missions were, or what they hoped to achieve. Except…except once.

“He might, if he thought he could turn me to the First Order,” Ayva said quickly as an idea began forming in her mind. It was fundamentally dishonest to suggest, but if it worked, she could end the war before something truly tragic happened. More importantly, the success of her plan let her hope for something that she’d never dared think about before. They could be together, if it worked. “He explained how I could build high powered blasters.”

“When did he do _that?_ ” Emmat asked, his voice rising with concern.

“When I thought I was dying,” she replied. “He gave me some of his technology.”

“Go on,” Leia encouraged.

“He might share more, if he thought my loyalty was wavering.”

“What might give him the impression of that?” Emmat challenged.

“If this meeting went badly…if you reprimanded me, if you asked me to do something objectionable, that put my safety at risk…”

Leia was smiling, though Emmat continued to scowl.

“It would be a risk,” Leia told her. “You could find yourself in real danger.”

“I think I can handle it,” Ayva replied. “It was bound to happen eventually, right?”

“Can you complete your mission on Coruscant if you compromise your identity?”

“Yes,” Ayva told her with confidence.

“You can’t be considering sending Ayva to Hynestia,” Emmat said quickly, finally catching on. “Bardak will be irate if she learns his daughter is alive. She’ll never make it past the doors on Coruscant.”

“It’s masked,” Ayva reminded them both. “I know the layout of the house. I can slip in, plant my bug, and then cause a huge scene by being there, diverting attention from anything I might have been doing before that.”

“And how will you get _out_ of the house?” Emmat asked, as if he’d finally found the flaw in the plan. Leia smiled.

“Hux will help her. On Hynestia, Ayva will go in my place like she did on Corellia. It is almost a guarantee Hynestia will betray us, regardless of how well we negotiate for peace. They’ve invited the First Order to their talks, and I think if Hux knows Ayva will be there, he will attend as well. It is a chance to do plant the seeds that Ayva is no longer content here, that she has doubts and that, on our end, we doubt her as well. Regardless of what happens on Hynestia, it is critical that you understand that _you will be alone_. If they betray the Republic while you are there, you will have to make your escape without backup or support.

You will fly from Hynestia to Coruscant, plant the listening device in your father’s workspace, and create a diversion that forces Hux to intercede. What you do after that is your choice. If you feel that leaving with him to get closer to his notes is the better course of action, I urge you do so. I will ask Rose to encrypt a channel on your data pad so that you can communicate safely with us. If you feel coming back is the better route in order to not arouse his suspicion, then do so. I am giving you a lot of freedom to decide how to best approach this.”

“This is too dangerous,” Emmat protested. “Hux isn’t some green cadet with no experience under his belt. He will see through the ruse and kill her before she ever has a chance to uncover his plans.”

“Hux is still a man,” Leia disagreed as Ayva waited with bated breath to see if this would be approved.

It was risky, though not for the reasons Leia and Emmat thought. If he caught her, she’d never be able to undo the betrayal and he’d be lost to her forever. If she succeeded, if she could convince him that she cared about him enough that it made him want to care about the things she was passionate about, she could save him _and_ put an end to this entire war. Whatever he was working on was secondary to her primary goal. He’d risked so much to keep her alive; it was her turn to do the same.

“If, at any point, you think he’s suspicious, you are to return, regardless of what information you’ve gathered. That’s a direct order,” Emmat told Ayva seriously. “One you may not disobey under any circumstances.”

“Yes, sir.” Ayva had no intentions of joining him in the First Order; those memories were still too raw. It didn’t mean, though, that she couldn’t go somewhere else with him, somewhere far from both the Resistance and the First Order. She didn’t know how to orchestrate that, though what did it hurt to try?

“Use your instincts,” Leia told Ayva, her eyes filled with an emotion Ayva didn’t recognize. “Listen to your feelings. That is the force guiding you. As long as you listen, it won’t steer your wrong.”

Ayva nodded, her heart beating with excitement.

“Now,” Emmat began, lighting up the holo board behind them to pull up Hynestia. “Let’s discuss the politics of Hynestia.”


	13. Transpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here, in this story, I like to think we are a democracy (no one tell Hux). To that end, I think we should have a conversation on what we want to see in the upcoming chapters. I rated this story E purposefully, and I think that if we considered how violent it tends to be, I probably rated it appropriately. HOWEVER. Should these characters ever decide they'd like to take their clothes off, how much do you, the reader, want to be a part of? I can do this a number of ways. We can fade to black, we can be absolutely explicit, or we can do a combination of both in which I warn you where they might be getting friendly ahead of time, and where that happens so you can skip ahead with the knowledge it happens, but without having to read anything that might be uncomfortable.
> 
> If you have a preference, let me know! 
> 
> Also, just real quick, if you've read Landos Luck, and have insight to Hynestia, please feel free to correct anything I've written. I went to Iceland two years ago, and I've modeled the planet around the country. They have a lot of hot springs there, and it was generally beautiful, and I'm trying to bring some of that energy into these next few chapters.
> 
> LASTLY you may have noticed the chapter limit changed. I think it will it again. I didn't number any of this when I wrote it, I just go through when I edit and look for a natural stopping place (or write one), but we're about a third of the way in, if you're wondering where this ends. We haven't hit the middle yet. I'm also looking for a good day to post weekly. I definitely want to update on a weekly basis, but I can't pick a solid day. I was aiming for Tuesdays. But going forward, you should expect an update once a week. 
> 
> WHEW OKAY. That's all I've got!

_And I can't stop, even if I wanted to_

_Up top, maybe I'm simply deluded_

_That's right, maybe I've been wasting my time, all this time_

_And it's hard to justify what you can do_

_I'm so sick and tired of falling through_

_And it's true, maybe I've been wasting my time, all this time_

_From time to time we fall in line, but now it seems that we are blind_

_No one knows, that's how it goes, all the thoughts that we transpose_

\--

\---

\--

Szábo was _finally_ interested in what was happening, now that they had moved away from burgeoning romance and towards solid war tactics. It was also the first moment since the testimony had started that revealed a true plan to manipulate General Hux into information and proved Ayva wasn't a clandestine spy for the First Order. Baume had taken a backseat to the questioning, letting Szábo attempt to hold her feet to the fire. 

"General Emmat was uncomfortable with the plan? Can you expand on that?"

It was like pulling teeth for him, but Ayva wasn't going to make it any easier on Szábo than she was required to, and certainly wasn't going to volunteer any information that wasn't explicitly asked. Szábo seemed determined to prove that she had done some wrong doing, or otherwise stepped out of bounds that might warrant ending the entire hearing without finishing. Doing so almost certainly condemned Hux to death, so Ayva danced around direct questions wherever she could and hoped that Baume would keep going if for no other reason than revealing every salacious detail. Getting to Hynestia was imperative to seeing things to the end; the'd spent a week together there, the longest amount of time they'd ever been together and Ayva made enough questionable decisions to warrant a hearing on her own behavior, should Szábo feel so inclined. 

"He felt it was dangerous," Ayva replied for what felt like the twentieth time. "As I mentioned before."

Szábo narrowed his eyes, but Ayva had already told him this and it was becoming tedious listening to him reword questions in an attempt to get the answer he wanted. 

"And when Leia said you were on your own, can you expand on what she meant by that."

Ayva glared. "I left D'Qar by myself..."  
  


\--

\---

\--

There was something terrifying about getting into her A-Wing with almost everything she owned and no idea when she’d see her friends again. After Hynestia she’d go straight to Coruscant, and whatever happened there would determine where she went next, though it was nearly a guarantee she wouldn’t be coming back to D’Qar. There was no promise she’d leave Coruscant at all; her father could have her executed before she ever got the chance.

In hyperspace, Ayva tried to bury her fears, staring at the data pad in her hand. One message, unanswered, haunted her.

_Safe?_

She couldn’t make herself respond to it. There was a weight to this message that she wasn’t ready to carry. She’d jumped so quickly at the idea of keeping him around, to be the one to bring him into the light without really examining why she felt that way or what it would mean if she succeeded. Ayva had no roadmap for romance, and she felt like she was flying blindly through space, hoping she landed somewhere safe.

He wasn’t safe, though. He was dangerous and walking this path promised ruin. A month had passed since Mekeb and too many times, Ayva had tried to talk herself out of this, willing herself to just confess everything to Leia. She hadn’t, so here she was, half scared, half excited, hurtling towards Hynestia with no true plan.

Well. _Semi_ -plan. If Ayva thought she was bad at following the rules, she had nothing on Poe. Poe had been furious to learn of Ayva’s plan and had sworn to back her up if everything went south. No matter how much he disliked what was going on with her and Hux, he seemed determined to stand by her, and Ayva thought she’d need that in the coming weeks.

Hynestia was practically too cold to support human life, so everything happened at the equator. Emmat had given Ayva the most in-depth class on Hynestia and their monarchy that had likely ever existed. Queen Rinetta, once exiled on Livno III, had taken the planet back once the Empire had fallen. Rinetta, determined to keep control of her planet, had resisted all attempts at recruitment by both the First Order and the New Republic and this was essentially a last stand. Joining the First Order meant, should they ever rise like the Empire did, Hynestia would be safe from a brutal take over like they’d experienced by the Empire, but Rinetta lost the ability to maintain her independence as a monarch.

On the other hand, accepting the terms of the New Republic forced Rinetta to adopt broad, galactic rules around commerce and trade and opened her planet up to new shipping lanes, without being able to tax them at the same rate she did now. It also required her to send a Senator to negotiate Hynsestia’s interests in the New Republic, splitting some of her control with both the New Republic and other politicians who did not care about her people or their interests.

Ayva was there to sell her on the benefits of democracy, even when it was messy, as well as remind Rinetta of how she had once helped a member of the Rebellion: Rinetta had once helped Lando with a mission, against her mother’s wishes, and Ayva hoped that spirit of Resistance lingered now, as an adult.

She landed on Hynestias’s landing yard, nervous to leave her ship so far from where she’d be staying, should things go terribly wrong. She could see several First Order ships, frozen in the distance. Of course, they’d beaten her here. The size of the ships promised that Hux had not come alone. It was a good strategy but complicated her own hopes around being the only person wielding any influence over him.

Cold wind whipped at her face, blowing blonde curls against her skin. She tightened the hood of her coat around her face as she adjusted her staff and bag, both slung across her shoulder.

A hovercraft zoomed towards her, it’s glass shield slightly fogged by whoever was inside. She waited until it was parallel to her body. The top lowered and a face obscured by a hood and a thick, warm mask popped up. Only brown eyes were visible.

“Ayva Bardak?”  
“That’s the one,” she replied as the man hopped out and reached for her bag. She handed it to him gratefully, climbing into the seat next to him as he tossed it into the back.

“I’m Marius,” he told her, pulling his mask down once they were safe in the warmth of the hovercraft. “Part of the royal guard. I’m here to make sure you don’t freeze in the tundra.”

“Well, consider me grateful,” she replied, wiping some of the fog from the window to peer out. She spent the vast majority of her time in warm climates; Hynestia couldn’t have been more different. Everything was covered by glittering white snow, framed by towering mountains in the distance. As the zoomed by, small houses, at first sparse, became more densely packed. It was clearly a metropolitan area, she realized, as building began to rise upwards, though nowhere near as large as the ones on Coruscant. They kept moving towards a towering, black stone castle, set against the base of the same mountains she’d seen when they first came in.

“We have a lot of volcanic activity here,” Marius told her. “Despite all the snow. It’s where all the black stone comes from.”

It looked like something that might have existed in the ancient galactic past, with huge, towering spires and its jagged edges. The castle lacked the modern lines and yet Ayva found it utterly charming in the way it evoked a strange, almost primal sense of fear. They pulled around, into a docking bay that was clearly reserved only for royal business. It would have been much more expedient if she could have docked her own ship there.

Ayva followed Marius out, through the emptiness of the dock, and inward, where more warm air blasted around her. You could almost forget that the planet itself was so cold, human life was only supported in this one, small band around the planet. She pulled her hood down and attempted to smooth out her hair. Marius was watching her from the corner of his eye.

“The First Order arrived hours before you,” he told her as she pulled her long curls out of the jacket. “They are eager to begin negotiating.”

“I’ll bet they are,” she grumbled, unzipping the coat. Marius took it from her before she could protest, draping it over his arm as they walked. His face was entirely revealed, a man older than she’d expected, and much more handsome than his first appearance had betrayed. Dark hair, greying slightly at his temples, and the straightness of his spine told Ayva he was important. Careful lips, set in soft brown skin, and the way his eyes watched her, even without directly looking, let her know that he didn’t trust her. Nervously, she rubbed her hands down the smooth bodice of the navy-blue dress she wore. The skirt swished too loudly with every step and though she had long sleeves, the neckline plunged until it was stopped by a wide, black belt, revealing large swaths of her chest. She had a feeling she’d have felt exposed no matter what she wore.

“I will take your things to your room,” he told her, stopping outside a large, metal door. “And meet you back here once Queen Rinetta is done speaking with you.”

She nodded, watching as he lifted a hand to a small pad so the door in front of them hissed open. Ayva stepped out of the dimly lit, dark hall they’d walked through into a small sitting room where the Queen herself, and only her, sat in a high-backed red chair waiting.

The door closed behind Ayva, leaving the two women alone. Ayva stepped forward, her shoes echoing on the dark black marble floor, her eyes glancing around. One side of the room housed shelves upon shelves of books, while the other featured two huge, arching windows, draped with gauzy white curtains. Behind Rinetta, a tapestry hung, covering the wall almost entirely. It was a gruesome, hunting scene in which a creature devoured a body, as figures clad in black attempted to slay it.

“Ayva Bardak,” Rinetta said, drawing Ayva’s attention back to her. Ayva was quick to curtsey, though she wasn’t sure if it was entirely appropriate. “Back from the dead.”

Rinetta’s dark hair was twisted back off her beautiful face, adorned with glittering gold jewels and set with a matching crown. She wore a sleek red dress with a sheer cape draped behind it; all of it added to her majesty and beauty, though much like her interactions with Marius, Ayva could see there was no trust between them.

“I’ve met Varus,” Rinetta continued, motioning for Ayva to sit in a smaller, back chair that faced the one she’d just risen from. Ayva sat without hesitation, watching as Rinetta stooped over the oval table between the chairs to pour a purple liquid into a glass. “Difficult, unpleasant man. I might consider your tactics, should he ever call on me again.”

Ayva accepted the glass with a smile, taking a small sip. She choked back a cough, unprepared for the warmth of the alcohol that blazed down her throat. Rinetta ignored her reaction.

“I’m surprised the New Republic sent you alone. The First Order attempted to bring an entire company into the city. There are over a dozen of them moving about the castle, with even more outside the city and in contrast, the New Republic sends just you.”

“It’s a negotiation, not a war,” Ayva replied easily, though nothing about what Rinetta told her made her feel good about the situation she was in.

Rinetta sat, still scrutinizing Ayva. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “Though I am not so certain they would agree. How will you escape, should they attack?”  
Ayva smiled. “That’s my specialty.”

“Leia Organa touched on your talents,” Rinetta told her. “I typically require all my guests to disarm themselves. However, with the refusal of the First Order, I’m trusting you will…control them, if it becomes necessary.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Did Leia Organa brief you on why this exercise in diplomacy is unlikely to succeed?’ Rinetta asked Ayva, her dark eyes laser focused on Ayva.

“Call me an optimist,” Ayva replied carefully. “If nothing else, I’d like us to walk away as friends.”

Rinetta stared for another long moment.

“Marius will take you to your room. Please, consider this your home for the next week.

Ayva smiled with genuine emotion this time, having passed whatever test Rinetta had set for her. As if by some kind of magic, Marius was back, striding through the door Ayva had just entered behind. She left her goblet on the table and followed after him with one final glance at Rinetta.

“That went well,” Marius told her once the door was firmly shut and they were back in the dark halls of the palace.

“Did it?” Ayva asked, wondering how he could possibly know that.

“Better than the First Order’s introduction,” Marius amended, his face carefully neutral. Though she didn’t think he’d intended to, he’d betrayed how he felt about the First Order. They might not have liked the New Republic, but, as far as Marius was concerned, they loathed the First Order. It was helpful to know. She did want to succeed on Leia’s behalf, even if she was also trying to get closer to Hux. Was it too ambitious to hope she could do both?

Now that she felt a little more at ease, it was easier to take in her surroundings, starting with Marius himself. He wore a uniform of white with gold trim and tassels. Though she wasn’t sure what the rankings translated to, it was clear from the denotations on his jacket that he was important, perhaps more important than she’d first imagined. Did she warrant his supervision?

As if reading her mind, he asked, “What exactly do you do for the New Republic?”

“Negotiating,” she replied, though it was a stretch to call anything she’d ever done negotiation. “Typically with the First Order, so this is a real treat.”

“The New Republic is taking the First Order seriously?” He asked.

_No._

“Some are more concerned than others,” she told him after some consideration.

He nodded, turning her down another hall. Like every hall they’d walked, massive, black stone cut pillars held high, arched ceilings decorated with colorful mosaics. Rich, bright tapestry’s depicting scenes from Hynestian history decorated the walls and Ayva promised she would come back to look at them once Marius was gone.

“While you’re here, spend some time in a hot spring,” he told her, stopping just outside a metal door. “I trust if you require any assistance, you won’t hesitate to call for me.”

“Of course,” she agreed, though Ayva didn’t plan to call Marius for anything. He turned, leaving Ayva to the room and what she hoped would be some time to regroup.

She stepped inside and flipped on a light as she breathed. On a massive four poster bed, she saw her bag sitting neatly against a fluffy, white bed spread. She took one step forward when a voice from the far end of the room sent her reaching for the blaster hidden in her skirt.

“Ayva Bardak lives.”


	14. The Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I procrastinating a massive assignment to upload this? Yes.
> 
> Also it has been a struggle not to upload these next few chapters like, constantly every day. I'm v. excited about them.

_My heart gets lost like a message_

_My hear is on the clouds and I don't get it_

_And so I'm fashionably numb_

_Sometimes it helps to forget where we come from_

_Out of the mire we were torn from, remember?_

_Out of the fire again but I'm an ember_

_I hold a banner for you but it's upside down_

_You got a question or two but I'm tongue tied now_

_Don't try to follow me I would hold you down_

_If I could make you the enemy I would_

\--

\---

\--

"Here is what I don't understand," Szábo began, leaning over his perch high about Ayva. "Nothing you say can be verified. Leia is gone, Emmat is gone, it's just your word that you were a _spy_ at Leia's order. I have spent _weeks_ listening to testimony of First Order officers and none of them had any inkling of this plot."

"Well, we typically didn't involve them in our strategizing," Ayva replied dryly. Hux saw her fingers curl slightly on the table before she stretched them out slowly, a gesture he recognized intimately. She was thinking about shooting Szábo. Did she have a blaster hidden beneath her skirt? For a moment, he let his imagination run away with him, picturing her staging an illegal rescue and ending this sham of a trial. She'd never do it; she believed in peace too much to really give in to her darker impulses. 

"I do seem to recall several officers remember my time aboard the Finalizer," Ayva interrupted his musings. "Not to get ahead of myself, of course."

Szábo glared. " _Anything_ to continue this."

Ayva smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes. "Justice is of the utmost importance to me, too," she added smoothly, a veiled threat. Perhaps she was more disillusioned with the process than he imagined. She would be hard pressed to defend her actions on Hynestia as service to the New Republic. He settled back against his cell wall so he could replay that time in his mind. They wouldn't be here if things had gone differently.

\--

\---

\--

He’d seen her walk in as he searched for an adequate place to hide another listening bug. She had been pulling her hair out of her coat and looking around with bright eyes. He’d hidden behind a pillar to watch her, escorted by the insufferable Marius, Rinetta personal pet, unaware they were being watched. Once she was in Rinetta’s grasp, he trailed behind Marius, surprised to find that Ayva had been put directly across the hall from him. Was this another of Rinetta’s tricks? It been laughably easy to break in. He waited an insufferably long time, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.

She hadn’t seen him at first, which disappointed him for some reason. She was thinking about something and he wanted to know what it was. He couldn’t help but give rise to some of hurt. She’d been doing whatever for an entire month while he had _agonized_ over every last moment, wondering if he’d waited too long, been too slow to get her out and she’d died. Why hadn’t she told him she was okay? Had she changed her mind about what she’d said? Did she no longer care about him?

_Had he gotten her in trouble?_ That was what he hoped for the most. Trouble with the Resistance might drive her straight to him.

“Ayva Bardak lives.”

She was quick, her blaster pointed straight at him, body defensive, just for a moment until she recognized it was just him. He expected her to continue holding it, but another second passed, and she lowered it, tossing it towards the bed. Anger burning, he stepped forward to accuse her of any number of things but never got the chance. Without hesitation, she’d closedd the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. He wanted to push her back, to demand answers, but he found himself hugging her back, too hard. He was surprised at how much relief he felt that, above all else, she hadn’t changed her mind about him.

“Thank you,” she murmured into the collar of his jacket, one hand moving upward to touch the back of his head. Every ounce of anger he had vanished, replaced by a softness he didn’t know existed. Had _he_ been angry with _her?_ It didn’t seem possible. He waited for the burning in his chest to leave with the anger, but it stayed, slowly spreading outward to his extremities with a warmth he didn’t recognize. It seemed to him that he’d felt nothing but cold anger that he struggled to recognize any other emotion.

She was moving, though her grip around his neck was as tight as it had been when she first began hugging him. Their lips were inches apart and he was tempted to bring them crashing together. He waited, unable to breathe, hoping she would kiss him this time. She untangled her arms from around his neck to touch either side of his face, her eyes searching his expression for something. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“You could have let me die,” she breathed, eyes travelling downward to his mouth. How could he explain that he couldn’t? He wanted to, but there was no time to try; she closed the distance between them, _finally,_ and whatever ability he had left to think vanished in the sensation.

There were clear differences between their last kiss and the one currently happening. He’d been careful when he kissed her that first time, trying too hard to impart a softness that wouldn’t scare her off. Ayva felt no such compunction. There was an urgency to the way her lips moved that stole every ounce of rationality left in his body. The taste of her, sweet on his lips, promised to haunt him long after she was gone.

Her body was pressed hard against his own; he didn’t know why he was endlessly surprised by the reaction she provoked without being aware of it, but there he was, half dazed at the feeling of her body against his. He ran his hands down her sides purposefully, intensifying the kiss as he attempted to pull her closer. The softest moan escaped her throat and, in that moment, he would have done just about _anything_ to hear it again. The fantasy of her, writhing beneath him, unclothed and slowly losing her mind as he touched her consumed him. His fingers were on the buttons of her dress. He fingered one, waiting to see if she would stop him.

The sound of knocking pulled them apart just as he decided to try it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, her hands falling from his face to his shoulders. Her green eyes were darker than he’d ever seen them and everything about her seemed just a little sharper. He liked her this way. Without complaint, he let her go, staying exactly where he was, out of sight to whoever was at the door, so he could focus on breathing and _control._ The last thing he needed was for someone to burst in and see him, half erect, lurking in the shadows of her bedroom.

“Marius,” Ayva said once the door hissed open. “Is everything okay?”  
“Completely fine, Ms. Bardak,” he replied politely. _Bardak._ His hackles raised. “There is a New Republic Senator here to see you.”  
“What?” She sounded confused. “Sent by who?”

“He didn’t say.”

“What Senator?”

“Jax Riyan.”

There was a lengthy pause. “Does he need to see me right now?”

“Are you indisposed?”

“As far as he’s concerned, yes.”

“I’ll tell him you’ll meet him for dinner.”

“Marius!” She called after him. “Can you find out who sent him?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The door hissed shut and instead of coming back to him like he would have preferred, she sat on the edge of the bed, her body sagging in on itself as if the weight of something was literally crushing her.

“Bardak?” He asked, unable to contain the question for a moment longer.

She put her head in her hands. “Bardak,” she agreed.

“Have you offended the Resistance?” He asked her, a bad attempt at a joke. She looked up, staring at him long enough for him, again, to wonder if _he_ was what had offended them.

“Was it-“

“No,” she said quickly. “It…it was going to happen, eventually…right?”

Was she asking, or trying to convince herself? She looked so far away suddenly, so unsure. He blinked. What was happening? His guard was up.

“Are you here…alone?”

“Yes,” she told him with a soft sigh. “Or, I was.”

The entire planet was a powder keg. Rinetta was so determined not to make the mistakes of her mother that she risked open, planetary war with the First Order to achieve it. He had several star destroyers hidden in the next closest sector, ready to attack if Rinetta tried anything. The capitol was crawling with his stormtroopers. There was no secret that he was trying to provoke aggression on Hynestia’s part, so he had an excuse to invade. How could Organa possibly have thought sending one ground solider to the tightrope that was Hynestia was a good idea? Was it a suicide mission, or did Organa think so highly of Ayva that she didn’t see the risk?

An idea was forming in his mind. Ayva was here _alone._ Without backup, she’d have to rely on him. He could bring her in, _finally,_ if he could just provoke Rinetta into attacking first. The Queen herself would be difficult to speak to truly alone, but Marius would not be. The head of her guard, he was likely tasked with keeping his ear to the ground. If he thought he could gain the upper hand, he might counsel her to strike first. Hux could certainly engineer that perception. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d manipulated a planetary leader into marching their army intop destruction.

Whatever cracks were forming between Ayva and the Resistance could be exploited. He’d have to tread carefully; if she suspected him at any point, it would drive a wedge between the two of them when things were already so delicate. He had homefield advantage, at least. She was isolated, on a hostile planet, with no one she knew well. He had an established history of putting her well-being above his own. He joined her on the edge of the bed, his strategy decided.

“This _is_ my fault, isn’t it?”

“No,” she replied forcefully. “No. Of course it’s not, you-“

“I know what it’s like,” he interrupted, carefully taking his jacket off. “My superior was also unhappy with me after Mekeb.”

She looked over; eyes filled with fear. He could see the guilt, etched deep in her expression.

“He was?” She half whispered. Hux nodded, pulling the edge of his undershirt upward to show her the yellow and green remnants of the beating he had taken. It was a partial truth; he had received it for letting the scouts die at her hands without killing her in retaliation. Snoke was too busy and disinterested in him to really probe deeper, and Hux was too adept at burying his emotions under layers of anger and resentment. Snoke was long convinced he had Hux figured out. Before Ayva, perhaps he had.

He moved to lower it and continue with his little speech but Ayva was too quick; she grabbed the shirt and lifted it further as cold dread washed over him. He knew what she’d seen.

“ _And this?”_ She asked, her fingertips tracing up his spine. He yanked the shirt downward with more force than he’d intended.

“Those predate you,” he told her briskly.

“Your father?” She asked as he reflected on how they’d gotten to this moment. No one, not even Phasma, arguably his closest friend, if she could be called that, knew about the scars. Even if she did, Phasma wouldn’t have cared. She could have stepped over his body if it were expedient. In contrast, here was someone who should have been his worst enemy, looking at him with tortured eyes and she knew she was imagining what could have inflicted such damage. It was almost laughable. He imagined how he might react to learn she was similarly marked, though she had given him. Varus would die, he decided. He knew that whatever damage Varus had inflicted on Ayva existed internally; he’d seen enough her body to know that, if nothing else.

“My father,” he agreed.

“How did he die?” She asked, a hardness overtaking pretty features. Was she imagining killing Brendol the way he had just imagined killing Varus?

“The same way I imagine yours will,” he responded.

She stared, just a beat too long, but didn’t push any further. His eyes drifted downward at the neckline of her dress, his thoughts shifting from his careful, calculated plan to her own appearance.

“Where do you get these dresses?” He asked without thinking, noting how much of her chest was on display. His fingers curled slightly as the urge to touch her threatened to overtake him.

“I grew up on Coruscant, remember?” She told him absently, as if she didn’t realize what he was staring at.

“ _Finally_ , the location of the Resistance base.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, said with the driest tone he could muster, but it did the job. She narrowed her eyes.

“I assumed _everyone_ knew that. Is it your first day running a military?”

It was easy to slide into this dynamic with her. He could see her relax at the familiarity of the banter. He let out a soft exhale of breath.

“Do you _like_ the dress?” She asked. He jumped up, unable to look at her.

“It seems…cold…for the environment.”

“Does it? What makes you think that? It does have sleeves, after all.”

He turned to find her still on the bed, hands in her lap, with eyes absurdly wide like she had no idea what might suggest it was not entirely warm.

“The fabric seems…ah…thin.” Why was he doing this? How did she rope him into these little games? He was a grown man; he could simply refuse to play along.

She raised her eyebrows as she stood, closing the distance between them once more, though she wasn’t touching him. He looked down at her.

“Would you prefer- _oh for kriffs sake!”_ Another knock at the door interrupted whatever she was about to suggest. Perhaps for the best he thought, soft sirens blaring in his head.

_She isn’t the enemy anymore._

The door opened and Marius entered. Hux didn’t try and hide this time as he straightened out the cuff of his jacket, all too aware that it was still unbuttoned.

“Is-are you okay?” He asked, looking from Hux to Ayva with alarm.

Ayva shot him a glance. “Of course.” She shot him a ridiculous wink before turning back to Marius. “What can I help you with?”

Marius was regarding him with open suspicion that irritated him. “I came to remind you of dinner.”

“Already?”

“Our Queen likes an early meal.”

“Lead the way,” she told the guard with a smile. Hux, now decent, followed behind him, his thoughts darkening. Calling Marius a guard was like calling him a foot soldier; it had perhaps been true once, but Marius was, perhaps, the most important man in Rinetta’s army. If she called upon them, it would be at Marius’s urging. Marius taking a liking to Ayva suggested to Hux that there was sympathy for the New Republic. It would be difficult to save her from the isolation of the Resistance if Marius aided her first. He would need to do something about that.

He watched Marius lead her to a seat next to Jax Riyan, the interloper from Coruscant come to aid Ayva, thought to what purpose he hadn’t determined yet. Ayva shot him another glance from across the end of the long, gray table and he knew that, in the end, Ayva would walk the path to him, in the end.

If he put the pieces in place, she’d come to him. It was just a matter of time.


	15. Mirrorball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters are getting longer and longer. I don't know, I COULD break them up if they feel overwhelming. 
> 
> Also, last chapter got the most feedback I'd EVER gotten. If you left a positive comment or a kudo, please know it means SO MUCH. TO ME that you like this (and also to know I'm not alone, sympathizing with Hux)!!

_I'm still a believer but I don't know why_

_I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try_

_I'm still on that trapeze_

_I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me_

_Because I'm a mirrorball_

_I'll show you every version of yourself tonight_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

" _You_ kissed _him_?" Baume asked with breathless delight. Ayva leaned back in her chair, willing herself to maintain composed. How long could this go on for? Surely, at some point, someone would put an end this? Szàbo, perhaps? He was growing increasingly annoyed with how _human_ Hux was turning out to be. That was the whole point; she was beginning to think Szàbo had hoped she would paint a different picture, one of an irredeemable monster that she managed to love. 

"Yes," Ayva agreed, speaking clearly into the mic. "I kissed him."

Murmuring through the room forced Baume and Szàbo to silence them, giving Ayva a moment of reprieve. She took a drink of water. 

"Please, _please_ tell the court that is all you did," Szàbo asked her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"With all due respect, I think we both know it's not," she replied. 

"Please," Baume smiled warmly, "Continue Ayva."

\--

\---

\--

_What. Was. Happening?_

Ayva stared down at the food in front of her, trying to focus on whatever Colonel Datoo was saying. All she could think about was the man sitting next to Datoo, eating as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if his mouth hadn’t been on hers an hour earlier. She narrowed her eyes at the meat, as if it had personally offended her.

“Datoo is absurd,” Jax Riyan murmured into her ear, perhaps noticing the scowl on her face. “Re-writing history as he does.”

Ayva glanced at the handsome man next to her, her annoyance deepening. Riyan was sharper than he appeared, providing commentary and context around the conversation she found helpful, since she was just barely paying attention. He was also another pair of eyes she didn’t want on her.

_Why are you here?_

She took a bite as she attempted to temper her annoyance.

“Are you certain that’s true, Colonel Datoo?” Ayva barked, interrupting his monologue of the benefits the Empire had brought Hynestia. “I seem to recall a lot of slavery, though I am so young, I may be confusing Hynestia with any number of other planets. Perhaps Peavey might remember as a veteran to the _Empire?”_

Next to her, Riyan settled against the back of his seat with a shit eating grin on his face, watching the First Order officers all glower in Ayva’s direction. Hux set his fork down on his plate to finally give her his attention, his expression promising a fight. _Good._ She was practically spoiling for one.

Rinetta, for her part, also seemed to enjoy the interruption, though she was not as obvious about it as Riyan was.

“You may be thinking of Imperial territory G5-623,” Riyan told her conversationally, as if commenting on how good the food was.

“You’re right, I could be mixing them up,” she agreed, though they both knew she wasn’t. “Do you happen to recall the indigenous name of that planet?”

“I _believe_ it was Kashyyyk, but again, I welcome any First Order officer to correct me if my facts are incorrect. There was so much slavery happening, and so many planets that were renamed, it is difficult to keep track.”

Hux was staring at her with open fury; it delighted her to no end.

“Now, now,” Rinetta finally intervened before taking a sip of the purple liquid that filled all their glasses. “Let’s not pick on our guests.”

Ayva and Riyan exchanged another glass.

“How unfair of us,” Riyan agreed, suppressing a smile.

“You’ll have to excuse my poor manners,” Ayva agreed, looking directly at Hux.

“How is your father?” Datoo asked Ayva, his blue eyes glinting with the promise of danger.

“I’m _certain_ you know better than me,” she retorted without missing a beat.

“I expect you’ll be seeing him soon,” Datoo continued, his words a clear threat. She saw Hux’s expression darken at the words.

“That’s enough,” Hux told Datoo, perhaps aware that Ayva had a response ready. His intervention told her everything she needed to know; he might be angry, but he wasn’t going to stand for open threats in his presence, even if she was the only one aware of it.

She was too smug as one of the Nobles of Hynestia took over the conversation seamlessly, as if barbed threats and petty fights were a common occurance. 

“Feel better?” Riyan asked her, their conversation hidden under the chatter.

“A little,” she admitted. If nothing else, her interruption promised another interaction with Hux, which was all she really wanted. “Why are _you_ here, by the way?”  
“I owe Poe a favor. I actually owe him hundreds of favors, but when he called asking me to join you here, it was such a small thing to repay. It was worth it, to see you hand them their entire life on a platter. I’ve never seen Hux so angry in my life.”

She glanced over at him, pleased to catch his eye. He seemed more curious than angry now that the conversation had shifted away from galactic politics to general Hynestian concerns and gossip about other senators.

“I guess you two aren’t really lovers?”

“Of course not,” she lied. She’d forgotten about her lie on Corellia until Riyan brought it back up. “It’s too easy to get a rise out of him.”

“You know him well, then?”

“We’ve met several times, always on the opposite end of the battlefield.”

“Well, I’m not much help in that department, but I think a unified front always helps. If anything, it might make them think twice about trying anything.”

“If you think they wouldn’t delight in killing a Republic senator who is unsympathetic to their plight, you’re wrong. They’d lie in every report detailing how it happened, they’d claim ignorance, and then lobby to replace you with one of their own.”

She finished her glass with one, long gulp, letting the alcohol settle in her bones nicely.

“I like your positive outlook on things,” he joked.

She smiled despite herself. “My specialty.”

Dinner, much like Corellia, slowly turned to drinks, which turned to music and dancing. Ayva, a little drunk, was sorely not in the mood to play the happy guest, especially when she considered the surroundings she found herself in. Well intentioned as Poe may have been, Riyan was not an ally for her. He’d acknowledged he was essentially useless in a fight and beyond that, he was another politician who had no qualms about allowing her father to continue hoarding resources and wealth unchecked. For all she knew, he was in Varus’s pocket, reporting back to him on her every move.

The Hynestian courtiers didn’t seem concerned that they were surrounded by First Order officers, openly salivating at the chance to take the planet for themselves. She couldn’t help but think that, like the Empire before it, the wealthy elite would have a chance to escape to somewhere safer, leaving their poorer citizens to bear the brunt of the violence. Watching human and mon calamari mix in their fine clothes, she strolled across the open hall, careful to avoid the dancers lest she get caught up in it. Riyan, for his part, was dancing jovially with a much older woman. It helped to soften her distrust, but only a little.

“Tell me the truth,” she muttered to Marius, leaning against a pillar watching the guests through careful, guarded eyes. “Did I take it too far at dinner?”  
One corner of his mouth turned upward. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “Though I don’t think it hurt your position much.”  
She glanced across the room, where Hux, sitting with Peavey and Datoo, all holding glasses filled with amber liquid, were talking, their expressions a mirror of distrust and dislike. “What are the odds this ends with everyone shaking hands and going their respective ways?”

He turned to fully look at her, some measure of concern on his face. “Why did Leia send you here alone? Surely she must have been aware of the risk.”

Ayva couldn’t tell him why; Marius, for his part, didn’t seem to care what her response was. “You should pack up, take the pretty Coruscant Senator with you, and leave before you lose control of the situation.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Yes, that’s what I am afraid of.”

He was looking over her shoulder. She turned to find Hux, his face a mask devoid of emotion. “Good luck, Ayva.”

“What was _that_ about?” Hux asked, watching Marius leave them.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m going to go to bed, actually, so if you don’t mind I’ll-“

He caught her elbow before she could dodge around him, pulling her behind the large pillar, out of sight from the waiting eyes of everyone else.

“Your little show at dinner was childish,” he seethed, his anger obviously building. She jerked her arm from his grasp, eyebrows raised.

“Just for clarity, it is perfectly fine for _you_ to call out the sins of the Republic but if I do, I’m childish?”  
“You have no understanding-“  
“Of what? The benefits of enslaving a planet? Please, Armitage, _enlighten me._ ”

He stepped towards her, causing her to step away, her back hitting the pillar. Her heart was pounding in her ears as excitement began building in her chest. Did she want to fight him because he was _wrong_ or because she didn’t know how any other way to undo him. His face was inches from hers, his eyes burning with the same desire she felt.

“You-“

“Is everything okay here?”

She bit back the urge to scream as Riyan stepped into view, ever unhelpful.

“Why don’t you go back to dancing?” Hux suggested, his voice lethal in its fury. Riyan took a step forward as Ayva rolled her eyes.

“I was talking to Ayva, not you,” Riyan retorted.

“Hi, I’m right here,” she reminded them, stepping around them both. “I don’t need your help, but thanks. I can handle myself.”

She took off, out large, arching doors and down the hall, disappointment pooling in her stomach. She could hear footsteps running behind her. “Hey. Hey!” Riyan caught up with her. “I wasn’t trying-“  
“You should go home,” she told him, not stopping to look at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Poe-“  
“If Poe wanted to help, he should have come himself,” she snapped.

“I’m not leaving,” he told her, though he had stopped following her. “I made a promise.”  
She turned on her heel, striding back to him. “Promised _who?_ Poe, or someone else?”  
His face hardened, just slightly. “You forget yourself.”

“I don’t dance on strings for money,” she accused. “You should know, if you’re here for anything but fulfilling an agreement with Poe, you’ll have to explain yourself to him.”

Riyan didn’t respond. Ayva felt the threat was clear enough; Poe was plenty capable of dealing with a traitor.

She left him there, finally making it back to her room. She flipped on the light and kicked off her shoes, shrieking when a shadow moved from the corner of her eye.

“How did you beat me here?” She demanded as Hux slunk out from the spot he was hiding in. “And could you _maybe_ announce yourself next time?”

“What were you talking to Riyan about at dinner?” He interrupted; his jaw set hard.

She pretended to think for a moment. “We spoke of so many things, it’s hard to keep track.”

“Why is he here?”

“We’ve fallen in love and plan to elope.”

He took a menacing step forward. “You. Elope with a _politician_?”

It was hard to keep her face straight in the light of how irritated he was. “You know how they say opposites attract?”

“Ayva I swear to the stars, if you-“

“I just knew, from the first time he spoke about shipping tax, that there was something between us-“

“Your absurdity knows no bounds-“

“We made a plan to have to elope, but alas! I was forced to Hynestia to contend with General Hux of the First Order-“

“Contend is a strong word-“

“Who is determined to stop our wedding, no matter the cost-“

“Because it is _not real-“_

“Because he is _jealous-“_

“Perhaps,” he agreed, ending her shenanigans.

“ _Now_ who is being absurd?” She challenged, abandoning her game. “You’re allowed to stroll in with your company of morons, but I can’t have one of my own?” Playing this little game had helped temper some of her anger, but only just.

“Morons is an unfair characterization,” he sniffed.

“Oh? Remind me, how did Peavey escape a jail cell in the New Republic?”

Hux’s eyes were slits.

“I’ll tell you how. He’s a _coward_ that lacks _conviction._ ” She knew she’d taken it too far when he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

“And what does that make _me_?” He asked, his voice dangerous. How could she answer that? She didn’t know what to say, so she reached out, no longer interested in fighting with him.

He flinched when he saw her hand, as if he expected violence. She remembered the scars on his back, the bruising on his ribs and her heart softened. This hardness was all he had; all he knew, and in spite of it, he managed to show her continued kindness, even when she was certain no one had ever reciprocated. Her palm met the soft skin of his cheek with almost regret that she hadn’t just started here.

“You’re _better_ than them.” She asserted fiercely, with all the conviction she could muster. “Better than all this.”

He stepped towards her, a piece of red hair falling in his eyes.

“I’m not,” he told her once they were inches from each other with just as much conviction in his voice as she’d had in hers.

“You _are_ ,” she told him, some of her anger melting into that same desire from before. She reached up and brushed his face. “I can see it. Why can’t you?”

He grabbed the back of her head, tangling his hands in her hair, as he brought their mouths together with a fury that excited her more than scared her. There was a fierceness to his kiss that was almost heartbreaking.

His hands were everywhere at once, her arms, her back, her face. She understood, and more importantly, she didn’t care _where_ he touched her as long as he didn’t stop. All she ever saw of him was careful, moderated control. This was the exact opposite of that- he was messy and wild, almost chaotic, biting her lip, his tongue in her mouth. She kept her hands on his face, all too happy to just be kissing him. She needed this, too.

He pulled away with a gasp, resting his head against hers as he breathed.

“I should go,” he told her. She shook her head.

“Stay,” she asked, lifting on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“If I stay I might-“

“You won’t,” she interrupted. “Not yet.”

He nodded, stepping away from her. “A moment, if you don’t mind?”

She nodded, watching him vanish out the door. She unzipped her dress as she inhaled and exhaled deeply her heart racing.

She was under blankets when he returned. She’d changed into a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt in an effort to look as casual as possible, in hopes he wouldn’t take off like a scared rabbit.

He froze in the doorway when he saw her, dressed in black, like always, though there was something so nice about the untailored pants that hung around his waist, set against an equally slouchy black shirt.

“Maybe this is a mistake,” he began warily as she unfolded part of the blanket next to her.

“It’s not,” she assured him with some annoyance. “How often are women offering you a place in their bed, Armitage? _Get in.”_

Time moved impossibly slow as he made his way towards her, _finally_ joining her. She reached over to the lamp on the bedside table next to her and flipped it off, hoping the darkness might help him relax. She had no expectations of anything other than sleep, though she wasn’t opposed to doing _other_ things, though she had no experience around them. He’d want to, right? He’d all but said he did, it was why he stopped kissing her.

She curled next to him, her head on his chest as he put an uneasy arm around her.

“Armitage?”

“Mm?”

“Why _didn’t_ you let me die?”

He was silent for so long she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, comfortable under the warm, soft blankets.

“I have…ah… some measure of _feelings_ for you,” he finally told her, his voice stilted as if it made him uncomfortable to admit.

“How embarrassing for you,” she joked, trying to ease some of his discomfort.

He kissed the top of her forehead and it took nothing for her to lean upward just slightly so they could kiss for real, _finally_ alone. He shifted slightly so he was on his side, arm still under her neck, facing her, not that it mattered. There was a softness to him that she found impossible to reconcile with the man she was so accustomed to. This side of him made it easy for her to justify liking him the way that she did; how could someone so gentle with her be a true monster?

She ran her hand over his chest, abandoning her earlier plan to move slow so as to not scare him off. She reached for the hem of his shirt, but he caught her wrist quickly, with more roughness than she expected.

“Absolutely not,” he breathed, his face close enough she could see his face in the darkness.

“Why?” She asked, a small amount of hurt rising in her chest.

“There’s no rush,” he told her with a soft breath. She paused, the hurt melting into something else, something strange she’d never considered.

“No…rush…” she repeated, trying to wrap her brain around the idea that here she was, offering him her body and he was assuring her that he had no expectations and, maybe, he didn’t want to jump into anything. She didn’t know what else there was, besides sex.

“Yes, Ayva,” he replied before kissing her again, but she couldn’t kiss him back. “Are you upset?”

She pushed herself upward, her breathing suddenly out of control. She was blinking rapidly, trying to prevent herself from crying, though it wasn’t working. He followed her up.

“Hey,” he said, his hand hovering just above her arm. He sounded alarmed. “I _want_ to, I-“

“Will you _stop talking?_ ” She hissed, irritated more with herself than him. His hand fell, and they sat there until she regained control of her body. To Hux’s credit, he stayed almost unbelievably still.

“I’m not mad,” she finally told him, taking a slow breath outward. “I…” How did she explain this to him without sounding insane? She had very intentionally avoided men, and relationships in general, after her near marriage and didn’t have a road map for how things should work now. Maunder had blazed through, determined to have her before someone else could and she never really considered how much damage that had done. She assumed that was how _all_ men operated and on some level, was fine with it.

He’d challenged her notions on what liking someone might look like that cut so deep and made that first experience suddenly so much more terrible.

“You were sold into a marriage,” he interrupted, his voice taking a dark edge. “And just barely escaped.”

She wondered if he could see her as clearly as she could see him. “Yeah,” she agreed with relief.

“I have considered the implications of that,” he continued. “That experience necessitates slowness.”

“You…you thought about it?”

“We joke, but it occurred to me long before tonight that a woman who thought it was possible to accidentally kill someone during a sexual encounter might warrant a little more care than I might typically engage in. Besides,” his tone lightened slightly, as if he was looking forward to what might happen next. “It’s supposed to be _fun._ ”

She sank back down, bringing him with her, relaxing into his body. “How much care do you _typically_ engage in, General?”

He groaned. “I said that to assure you I was not a monster.”

“Okay, but you said it and I think you should expand on it.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I think you’re hoping to find something to poke fun at.”

“I _swear_ I won’t laugh.”

“I will answer one specific question you have, and only one.”

“Fine. Tell me about your first time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on. I’ll tell you about mine.”

“ _Because I will be there when it happens._ ”

“A minor detail. You said one question, I asked one question.”

“Repeat the question?”

“What was your first time like?”

He sighed. “Brief.”

She giggled. “Brief?”

“Yes, Ayva. It was brief.”

“Can you expand on that?”

“You said you weren’t going to laugh,” he complained. “I was a young man in the academy, it felt good, I had no sense of how things should go…things have changed greatly between then and now.”

“Amazing,” she giggled. “This is the most information you’ve _ever_ given me about yourself. If I had known all it required was a few minutes of kissing I would have taken a much different approach in that holding cell-“

“Ayva I swear to the stars if you-“

“You would have had to resign; can you imagine explaining how I escaped? ‘So sorry, she kissed me and I lost all sense of purpose,’-“

“ _Lost all sense of purpose-_ “

“I’d find you, years later, working in a ronto shack, roasting meat on a stick for hungry denizens on Corellia-“

He silenced her with a kiss she was all too happy to reciprocate. It was easy to just enjoy kissing him, without the looming fear of his possible expectations. There was something distinctly enjoyable about the weight of his body on top of hers, the warmth of his mouth against hers, the roughness of his face against her own, and how his hands touched her body with an intentionality that put her at ease. She also enjoyed how uncontrolled he seemed in the way he breathed; soft noises occasionally escaped his lips that seemed involuntarily uttered, as if his body had taken over.

Lost in the sensation of wet and warm against the softness of the bed, she realized that she was happy in a way she couldn’t remember being in her entire life. It enhanced the burning desire that swirled in her lower belly.

At some point, they settled back into the darkness, intertwined around the other.

“You’ll stay, right?” She asked, nestling into his chest.

“I’ll stay,” he agreed, tightening his hold around her body slightly. She was nearly asleep when she realized something.

“Armitage?”

“Hm?” She wasn’t the only one nearly asleep.

“I have feelings for you too.”

She could feel him smiling against her head.

“How embarrassing for you.”


	16. Enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, and as always, I appreciate EVERYONE who left a comment or a kudo. It really does brighten my day, and beyond that, it's just FUN to know that this resonates with more than just me!

_This is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the story line ends_

_My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again_

_These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon_

_I was enchanted to meet you._

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

"You spoke with Senator Jax Riyan that night?" Baume asked Ayva, her tone adopting more of a formal tone. There was no room for error when speaking about a Senator of the Galactic Senate.

"I did," she acknowledged.

"Did he speak with anyone besides you?"

Ayva shrugged. "Not to my knowledge."

Baume and Szábo exchanged a glance, though said nothing out loud. Ayva folded her hands carefully in her lap, keeping her face even. 

"And you spent the night with General Hux?" Baume pressed, getting back to what most people had come to hear. Ayva nodded.

"I did."

\--

\---

\--

She woke to the sound of knocking on the door. What did it say about her that her first instinct was to pull the blanket up to ensure no one saw Armitage? He was gone, his spot in the bed cold. No need to conceal something that didn’t exist she thought with a sigh, dragging herself out of bed. She opened the door, revealing Marius.

“Do you eat?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow. Ayva ran a hand through tangled blonde curls.

“Yes?”

“You missed breakfast.”

She sighed again. “Well, there’s always lunch, right?”

“Long night?”

She looked up at the elder guard and, though she couldn’t explain _how_ she knew, she just knew that he knew she hadn’t been alone last night.

“Long trip,” she replied, hoping he hadn’t caught the surprise she’d felt.

“Well, try not to miss dinner tonight.”

“Is it good?”

“The food is _always_ good, but it’s a celebration. Our Queens birthday is always a cause for dancing.”

“I don’t dance,” she grumbled. Marius lifted a well-groomed eyebrow. “That’s not what Mr. Riyan assured the table this morning.”

Her expression darkened. “What would _he_ know about it?”

“It’s my understanding he knows your father.”

“You know, Marius, I think I _do_ consume breakfast. Where do you keep the alcohol around here?”

Ayva found herself, an hour later, stalking through the palace with two bottles of wine in either hand. She left her hair down and wore only a robe, though the robe prevented just anyone from seeing what _beneath_ it, which was what could be considered an inappropriate swimming suit. Marius had directed her, after watching her take the wine with entirely too much judgement, towards the private, underground hot springs. She’d stopped only to change, throwing on the two-piece pink suit and a pair of slip on shoes, before she made her way down winding stairs. She knew she was close when the smell of sulfur became overwhelming and the heat prickled at her skin.

The water was a swirling, milky blue. Around her, the air was chilly though nowhere near as cold as the true outdoors. The hot spring, easily the size of the base she lived on, was set inside a beautiful hall. Gorgeous white walls with soft, gold leaf painted against them, gave the room a relaxing air that Ayva could appreciate. Ornately carved round tables of black, with equally intricate chairs, and Ayva could imagine people sitting in them, chatting or eating whatever lovely food Hynestia had available.

She was alone, which gave her the freedom to be herself. She tossed the blue robe onto a chair she dragged to the edge of the water and set one bottle beneath it. The other she brought directly into the water with her, drinking as she walked in. For a few moments, she let herself acclimate to the warmth and nothing else. The wine was sweet and promised that by the time dinner rolled around, she’d be drunk enough to physically fight Riyan without caring who saw her. Poe _liked_ that guy?

She didn’t believe it. Sure, Poe had questionable taste sometimes, but he couldn’t see right through someone as smarmy as Jax Riyan? Did Poe know _her?_ How could Poe have ever thought her and Riyan could work well as a team? She took another drink as a terrible thought dawned on her. Was Poe trying to play matchmaker? Was this his misguided way of trying to set her up with someone?

“Kill me right now,” she said out loud, wading further into the pool.

“I might,” a voice replied back. She didn’t have to turn around to know who’s sharp tone the words belonged to.

“You don’t look like a man who can swim,” she replied, her back still to him. “I like my chances.”

“I was born on Arkanis,” Hux sniffed. “Practically _in_ the water.”

She turned, a smile on her face. He looked annoyed, standing next to the chair her robe was draped over in his full officer’s uniform.

“You plan on swimming in _that_?” She teased. “I might suggest taking it off.”

“You’re drunk,” he retorted, though his cheeks flushed. She raised the warm bottle of wine slightly with a wink.

“Not yet, but I have faith in my ability to get there by this evening.”

He scowled. “What could be so awful that you need to numb yourself to it?”

“Were you at breakfast?” She asked after another long drink. His face darkened visibly.

“I was.”

“I can see from your expression you know _exactly_ why I’m drinking now.”

“I had hoped you might consider replacing the Senator…with me.”

She burst out laughing. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to dull the sound. His expression remained neutral, though she could see the tips of his ears were pink.

“Are you asking me to be your date?” She finally choked out.

“No,” he assured her. “I’m asking you to dance with me.”

She was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. “You want to dance with _me? Rebel scum-“_

“Ayva I swear to the maker if you go down this road, I will-“

“Your most hated enemy? The bane of your existence-“

“I _know_ you are aware things have changed-

“A woman you once _swore_ to chase across the galaxy-“

“A promise I made good on, I might add-“

“Do you even know _how_ to dance?”

He frowned. “Yes I know how to dance.”

“You’ll regret this, you know,” she told him, making her way to the edge of the hot spring. She leaned up against the hard rock, water falling down her back.

“I am certain I won’t,” he assured her, watching as she haphazardly clambered from the water. His eyes looked her over quickly before settling on something behind her. She giggled again, thrusting the empty wine bottle into his chest.

“You will,” she promised. “I’m a _terrible_ dancer.”

“Is there anything you _are_ good at?” He asked. It was obviously his attempt at teasing her, but Ayva, feeling bolder than usual, stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, gently, where anyone could have seen them.

“Just that,” she told him when they parted. He bit his bottom lip, eyes still closed.

“Sober up, Bardak.”

She swiped the other bottle of wine from under the chair and walked towards the exit of the room.

“Not a chance, Hux.”

She wasn’t drunk persay, by the time dinner rolled around, but she definitely wasn’t worried about sitting next to Riyan anymore. She’d pulled out her favorite dress, a long, gold gown with a glitter, gold cape that trailed behind her. The neckline dipped into a sharp v, giving anyone close enough a solid view straight down. She twisted her hair off her face and put flat shoes, just to ensure Hux was, in fact, tall enough to look down her dress if he wanted to.

“You’ll be next to Riyan,” Marius was telling her as he escorted her into the large ball room that dinner would be held in. “But if you prefer, I could move you between-“

“No, it’s fine,” she told him. “Don’t break up good conversation on my part.”

“Should I ask to keep the wine flowing, instead.”

“You know me so well,” she grinned, stepping into the hall. She froze, her heart picking up speed at just the sheer number of people sitting at round, white clothed tables. She blinked over and over as her vision blurred for a second, and there she was, back in her parents hall, in a white dress, about to be married to Maunder. It was the low sound of talking, the smell of meat swirling with a heady mix of perfumed spices. It was the massive pillars and marble floors, sectioned by tables and a dance floor.

“Keep it moving.” Armitage Hux stepped past her, his gloved hand pressing against her elbow for just a moment before he walked down the stairs. His voice was an anchor. She exhaled quickly, following behind him, her arm still tucked into Marius’s.

“You don’t _have_ to go,” Marius told her.

“I know,” she said, though it was a lie. If she couldn’t attend a function, what was the point of her presence other than to rattle the First Order?

“Nice, huh?” Riyan asked once Ayva was in her chair. She looked across the table to Hux, who had his glass pressed against his lips. She smiled a little, wishing it was her instead. He choked and for one terrifying moment, she wondered if Hux could read her mind.

She realized it was the conversation happening around him that had taken him by surprise and not her thoughts.

“What?” She asked Riyan, grabbing her glass.

“I said, you and Hux seem awfully friendly.”

She turned her attention solely to Riyan. “Oh yeah?”

“What’s going on with that?”

“I have an idea. Why don’t _you_ tell me what’s going on between my father and yourself and _I’ll_ explain to you how enemies work.”

“Do _all_ enemies spend as much time together as you two do, or-“

“What do you want to know, Jax? Do you want me to explain how he once tortured me on a star destroyer? Or are you disappointed we haven’t had a full-scale fight on the dinner table? Please, _enlighten me,_ what do you think is happening here?”

He seemed taken aback, but Ayva wasn’t about to explain herself to one of Coruscant’s elite members of Senate. He couldn’t _possibly_ understand, and he never would.”

He straightened the cuff on his white robe slightly as he cleared his throat. “I…ah…I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she snapped. “You’re out of your depth here.”

They both were, in truth, but Ayva knew that no matter how this played out, she’d walk away alive. The First Order wasn’t a threat to her, not when Hux commanded it.

“And what about you? You’re planning to stroll back onto Coruscant after leaving it behind? Do you think a warm welcome is waiting there for you?” He demanded as someone set plates of warm food in front of them. “You have no strategy, Ayva. You’re walking straight to your death and for _what_?”

“Isn’t that what _you’re_ here for?” She retorted. The alcohol had made her too bold; or, maybe she was spoiling for a fight and _anyone_ would do. She had considered physically fighting him earlier. 

The look on his face told her no, it wasn’t. He was right, in that regard; she didn’t have a strategy _yet_ , though one was brewing.

Their conversation was, mercifully, interrupted by Rinetta, who began speaking to the room in the native Hynestian. Ayva couldn’t speak it, so she ate in silence, letting Riyan occasionally translate her words, a concession from their earlier squabble.

“It’s a celebration of peace,” he murmured next to her, watching the woman with sharp eyes. “A reminder to our friends at the First Order, perhaps?”

She looked at Rinetta, dressed in a heavy, purple gown, though her eyes shifted towards Marius. He was in a matching purple robe with gold trim, the only one of the guard who was visibly present and dressed so nicely.

“What’s do you think is going on with Marius?” She asked him, aware that Riyan didn’t know any more than she did.

“What does it look like to you?” Riyan whispered back, his head tilted towards hers conspiratorially.

“It looks like love,” she replied easily, watching how Marius’s eyes never left Rinetta as she spoke, his face shining.

“I wonder if it’s reciprocated.” She looked at Riyan, but he wasn’t looking at Marius anymore. She turned her head in the same direction of his, her eyes meeting Hux’s.

“If it was, they’d be together, right?” She asked, looking away from the icy blue to watch Rinetta again.

“Politics are complicated. I keep trying to explain that to you.”

She twisted in her chair so she was facing him and only him. “Fine. Explain it to me.”

He sighed, put on the spot. “You’re angry I took money from your father.”

“Do you know who he is?” She asked as he rolled his eyes.

“ _Everyone_ takes money from Varus, whether they want to or not. It’s not like he walks up and _asks._ He makes a generous, often anonymous donation. Maybe he hosts a campaign event on your behalf. He says something nice about you. Before you know it, you’re in office and you’re grateful. He doesn’t ask for much…until he does, and then you can’t say no. You know what happens if you do.”

“So, you what, do what he wants, or you lose your seat?”

“Yes, Ayva,” he retorted, his face twisting angrily. “And if I lose my seat, I’m replaced by someone who always says yes, who never pushes back, who wants to be thought of well even when Bardak isn’t interested in him, so he softens regulations, lowers taxes, who thinks it’s fine if a galactic citizen is _tortured_ aboard an ex-imperial ship with machinery they are forbidden from having. You don’t have to like it, but the galaxy doesn’t operate on theoretical best practices. It’s run by money and influence and sometimes you make a deal with the devil and hope you can do some good in spite of it.”

“And have you, Senator? Done any good, I mean?” She challenged, smarting a little.

“I hope to.”

“Well,” Ayva said coldly, raising her glass to her lips. “The galaxy doesn’t run on hope. It’s runs on action.”

Music began playing as Ayva took a long drink, irritated with Riyan and his self-righteous insistence that it was fine to prop up a corrupt system if it meant he could do some good in the process. How could he possibly do any good if it was built on a rotting foundation?

Rinetta and Marius were dancing, clearly ceremonial though their movements betrayed them as people who cared about them. That was the thing about dancing; it was intimate the way kissing was. She wondered what their story was and why they weren’t together. It made her stomach twist; they hit too close to home. If Armitage didn’t join her, was this their fate? Meeting occasionally, pretending indifference? What good were feelings if she couldn’t act on them like she wanted to?

The music ended and others got up, no longer bound by ceremony. Ayva stood too, unsure what her plan was. Luckily for her, Marius was right there with a sweeping bow. “Dance?” He asked with a smile. She nodded.

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor, pulling her into the appropriate stance with a warm familiarity. “You and the Queen looked cozy,” she teased once they began moving. She’d spent her childhood learning to dance; she found it was something her feet seemed to recall without any prompting.

Marius smiled. “We have always been close.”

She nodded, looking over at his shoulder at two Mon Calamari, gliding with a grace that surprised her.

“You need a game plan, Ayva,” he urged her suddenly. His voice was serious though his face was still pleasant. From the outside they looked like any two people who just enjoyed each other’s company. “Or this will not end well for you.”

“Is there no hope of joining the republic systems?” She asked him, well aware Leia herself had not been optimistic.

“Not with the First Order here. It is becoming increasingly clear that it will be their way or no way. I have…I have a request of you.”

“Ask it,” she said without hesitation. “Anything.”

“Assistance from the Resistance,” he told her, dark eyes boring into her face. “To fight the First Order.”

She looked up at him, biting her bottom lip. “Leia said…”

“I know what Organa said,” he interrupted. “But I must ask you to ask her again.”

“And if she says no?”

“Then I have to ask you to do something else for me, instead.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Ask.”

“Keep General Hux occupied long enough for our army to make the the first move.”

She swallowed. There it was. Confirmation he knew what was happening between them. “I can do that.”

He nodded, glancing to the side of them. She turned her head where Hux was standing, his face utterly unreadable.

“May I interrupt the dance?” He asked, his voice cold. Marius glanced back at Ayva.

“All yours, General.”

Hux swept her into his arms with ease, too close though she didn’t care. He smelled like whiskey and tobacco mixed in with a cologne she had come to associate only with him.

“What did _he_ want?” Hux asked her, his hand settled on her hip in the most distracting way.

“Hm?” She asked, buying herself time.

“What did Marius want?” He repeated, his back impossibly straight. He towered over her, eyes staring downward. Who had taught him how to dance, she wondered? When did he find the time?

“To talk shit about Senator Riyan,” she lied, with a small amount of guilt.

“A favorite pastime among my lieutenants as well,” he told her with a small nod of approval.

“Won’t they find this dance strange?”

“No. If you look outraged, they’ll assume I am threatening you.”

She twisted her face into outrage. “If you like, I could slap you as well.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“I would _love_ to get carried away.” She said it with as much venom as she could muster. He tightened his fingers against her hip before spinning her neatly in time with the music. She came back to him breathlessly. He leaned down low enough that his lips brushed her ear.

“You may do whatever you like to me."

She broke out of his embrace and, with exaggerated contempt, brought her hand upward to hit him. He caught her wrist easily, which was the whole point. It was all for show.

“That’s not very nice,” he told her, eyes glinting dangerously. 

“What are you going to do about it?” She challenged, pulling her wrist from his hand. She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she spun on her heel to walk off, way too pleased with herself.

She planned to leave, wait a few minutes, and then return as if nothing had happened in an effort to make him jealous for the rest of the evening, but he was always one step ahead of he

She had _just_ stepped through the door, into the dimly lit hallway when a hand grabbed her arm, yanking her behind a massive stone pillar. Her back hit the wall though before she could say anything, Armitage’s mouth was over hers. One hand covered her neck, his thumb resting just below her jaw, and the other was back on her hip, gripping with an intensity that made her stomach burn.

There was _danger_ to the kiss; anyone could walk out and step behind the pillar and they’d find the two of them. She should care but in that moment she just _didn’t._ After her brain caught up with what was happening, she was kissing him back like her life depended on it. She couldn’t help but run her hands through his neatly combed red hair. She liked the idea that he’d have to go back to his cronies a little more disheveled than when he left with no explanation as to why. Besides, the tiny space of skin between his collar and his hair was the only place she could really _feel_ him, and she never passed up an opportunity to touch bare skin.

His hand was inching upward as his tongue entered her mouth, causing an explosion of star behind her eyes. She was on the verge of losing all sense of purpose when he broke the kiss, his hand hovering just below her breast. He pressed his forehead against her own, breathing hard.

“I’ll see you tonight?” She murmured; eyes still closed. She felt him nod.

“You will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could any of this possibly explode in Ayva's face?


	17. This Is Me Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't come here for smut, I'd say read the first four paragraphs and then just scroll all the way down to the bottom where I'll provide a very "helpful" chapter summary.

_I've been having a hard time adjusting_

_I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting_

_I didn't know if you'd care if I came back; I have a lot of regrets about that_

_Pulled the car off the road to the lookout_

_Could've followed my fears all the way down_

_And maybe I don't know quite what to say, but I'm here in your doorway_

_I just wanted you to know that this is me trying_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

“You did what?” Baume asked, though Hux was certain she had heard Ayva loud and clear. Ayva sighed, her stress palpable even though the screen.

“I had sex with him,” she repeated tersely, teeth ground together.

“And would you say it was good or-“

“Can we recess for a minute?” Poe Dameron asked, appearing from off camera at Ayva’s side. Hux couldn’t deny he was grateful for Dameron’s presence, a new sensation for the once hated foe.

“Take ten,” Szàbo agreed, rising from his seat.

Ayva was on her own feet in a flash, vanishing from view, Poe at her side.

This hearing was too stressful, too public. Not for the first time, he regretted not vanishing when Ayva had offered him the out, hiding somewhere beyond the purview of the Republic. He’d known, at the time, she never would have respected that choice and he’d done enough to disappoint her over the last three years.

Still…still, their private life had become public for galactic consumption and everything that happened next were things he would have preferred to keep between them two of them. She glossed over so much, but she didn’t leave anything out. How would she explain her own role, in the coming hours? What would prevent the council from turning on her?

His mind wandered back to Dameron, and likely the rest of her Resistance pals, sitting behind her in the first row, an open threat. Ayva, in spite of what she might have done in the name of his redemption, had dismantled an empire and fought bitterly to the near death. To condemn her or attempt to try her for any of her supposed crimes would see the kind of revolution he’d hoped for, once upon a time. If nothing else, Dameron would shield her from the worst of it, if Armitage himself could not.

He sighed, setting the data pad down. She wouldn’t discuss it, but that night on Hynestia was forever burned in his mind. The silence gave him the chance to replay some of it in his mind…

\--

\---

\--

Hux’s original plan had been utterly shot to shit. He could hardly remember what he’d come to this frozen bantha hole to do in the first place, too utterly consumed with the blonde woman mere feet away from him, listening intently to whatever some nobleman’s son was telling her. If he had been smart, he’d have hauled her out of that hall when he had the chance, when she’d been so breathless and pliant beneath his hands. Now he was condemned to what could only be described as hell, watching everyone else touch her and speak to her while he himself was forbidden.

She, on some level, seemed to be aware it was eating at him though he doubted she understood the extent to which he was suffering. Every so often she’d catch his eye and do something that made him want to kill whoever she was speaking with; a toss of her hair, a soft laugh, or his least favorite, pulling her hand on their arm. He ground his teeth together watching, sitting from his perch, one leg crossed over the other to keep anyone from seeing what was going on in his pants. He kept a tight grip on the glass of whiskey he was nursing, which was just enough to keep the edge off.

He was convinced there was a clear path forward for the two of them, one that kept them together when all was said and done. He put his plans for invading Hynestia onto the back burner in a calculated attempt to get what we wanted on both ends. Hynestia was teetering on the edge of war, a war they absolutely could not win. They had been abandoned by the Republic, who sent one woman, supervised by one of the most useless Senators they had. Ayva was blissfully unaware of the politics that surrounded her and filled with distrust towards the only man who could force her to see a side that was not Hux’s. He couldn’t have been in a better position if he’d orchestrated it himself. 

Though the current circumstances had fallen into his lap accidentally, he didn’t get to where he was by sitting idly by and watching how things play out. He could weaponize Ayva’s mistrust and guide her to see things his way. He knew if she left Hynestia with him, she couldn’t go back to the Resistance. She was dancing on a tightrope, caught between her loyalty to Leia Organa and the threat her father presented to her. The only thing that could save her from either was him.

All he had to do was get her out of the city and into the slums of Hynestia, where the brutal workplace conditions were sure to radicalize her. She was so close to demanding revolution, yet still too sheltered to recognize she was fighting against the very thing she thought she was fighting for. She wanted a fair galaxy and he wanted order. They could be mutually exclusive.

He glanced between Riyan and Marius, wondering who it would be better to goad. Neither man trusted him, and both were suspicious of his relationship with her. He caught Marius’s eye; the elder guard it was. He stood, straightening his pants though his erection had tempered itself for the moment. He took a breath, willing himself to forget, just for a moment the way her mouth tasted, and strode over the Hynestian Queen’s most trusted advisor.

“Enjoying yourself?” Marius asked. Armitage looked at the swirling amber liquid in his glass.

“Tell me, how is trade for you lately?” Armitage replied, ignoring the initial question.

“You would have to ask her Majesty, if you’d like a full report, but look around you. Hynestia thrives without the oppressive chains of the Empire.”

_Thrives._

“So it seems,” Hux said carefully, taking a sip of his beverage. “Gherlian fur brought record profits last quarter for investors without considering the shipping costs paid by other planets, but I couldn’t help but notice that wages were stagnant. Curious, don’t you think?”

Marius’ eyes narrowed. “I can’t imagine any reason why a man who has championed slave labor from the start would care about wages.”

His expression didn’t change, but it gave him a strange sense of satisfaction to twist the knife so obviously into Marius. He wore his hatred so plainly. “I can’t imagine any reason I might, either, but I think the New Republic might find it incredibly distressing.”

“The New Republic has made it plain they are only concerned with preventing the First Order from digging their claws into our soil.”

“Ah yes, Bardak and Riyan are the dream team, aren’t they?” He sneered. “Truly an unstoppable force against an entire military.”

“Witnesses to the New Republic, should you decide to enact your little scheme.”

He nodded, as if he’d been caught. He had no intention of letting Riyan escape this frozen mass alive, and Ayva would not return to the New Republic, no matter what she thought. “Perhaps.”

“What was that about?” Detoo asked him once he was back in his little corner of the room.

“ _That_ was Hynestia about to make a grave mistake,” he replied with open satisfaction. “Send word to move our star destroyers into the quadrant. I want them ready to go and I want them as close as we can get them without declaring open war.”

“Sir, wouldn’t it be better _to_ declare open war?”

“And risk the ire of the republic? No. Hynestia will do it for us. Move our troopers out of the city center and have Phasma prepare a drop ship that will land tomorrow evening. It will take Hynestia just as long to ready their own forces.”

“And what would you like done about the republic witnesses?”

Hux looked over at Ayva, smiling softly at someone he was certain did not deserve it. “Leave that to me.”

He beat her to her room by mere moments; not long enough to do any snooping. She strolled in like a beam of light, wide smile across her beautiful face. He didn’t give her a moment to breathe, catching her around her waist and pulling her hard against him. She melted into the embrace as if she had thought of nothing else, too. He found it intoxicating how easy she gave herself over with nothing more than a soft sigh of relief.

“Your performance tonight was absurd,” he told her between kisses, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest at the sensation of her smile against his lips.

“You didn’t like that?” She asked.

“No,” he replied, aware that they were not just _alone,_ but alone without any threat of danger. No raging droids, no one from their respective camps just beyond the hedge, no threat of impending death. 

“Turn off the light,” she breathed. “And lock the door.”

There was something infinitely arousing about the knowledge that they were on the same page. Loathe to let her go, even for a moment, he pulled away to ensure no matter how much someone knocked, they couldn’t get in. As he did that, Ayva pulled tiny pins from her hair quickly, setting them one by one, onto a little side table at the edge of the bed. His hand hovered over the light switch as he watched, as if happening in slow motion, her shake her hair out quickly. A mass of curls cascaded down her shoulder, some bent into odd angles from being held back, giving her the same wild appearance she’d had after Tion.

“Turn off the light, Armitage,” she instructed him, realizing he was staring.

“Keep going.” He ignored her order, seeing how far he could ride this out before she shut him down.

She stared at him for a minute, lips parted, brows knit together, as if she were trying to decide if she should kick the shit out of him or not. In that moment, he would have let her if she wanted. Like a fever dream, she reached behind her and began undoing tiny buttons.

“Is that your thing?” She asked as she worked, one eyebrow arched. “Watching?”

“Watching _you_ ,” he clarified without embarrassment. The promising of an ass kicking hadn’t left her expression, though when she slid her arms out of the sleeves of her dress and let it pool at her feet, he thought it would have been well worth it to see her as she was now.

Her expression was utter defiance, mixed with a tinge of fear. He stepped forward, aware he’d seen her like this earlier today, though he’d adverted his eyes before he could really drink it all in.

She was impossibly lovely, like something he had imagined into being, born from the unyielding loneliness that plagued him. He reached out and touched the burning red scar that marred the smooth of her stomach. He’d forgotten, over the course of the day, that she’d nearly died while he watched. How strange, he thought absently, his hand travelling up the side of her body toward the hem of the white lace encasing her breasts. How strange that he could be so afraid of losing one person.

He lowered his mouth, but she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him back. “Oh no, General. I think not.”

Panic, for just a moment, hammered into his body. He looked up at her to find she was smiling, and he knew he’d walked right into this one.

“The light’s still on,” she reminded him. “And you’re still dressed. Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

He reached for the light, but she shook her head.

“Take your clothes off Armitage.”

Words he would replay over and over in his head, he thought. She was standing in nothing but her under garments, watching him with open curiosity. He found there was something a little nerve racking about knowing he would be the first naked man she ever saw.

“Is…is this how you want to see your first…ah…naked…man?”

She giggled. “You think you’re the first man I’ve ever seen naked?”

His hands froze over his belt. “Yes?”

“Well, you can relax. I’ve seen lots of naked men.”

He frowned. “Would you like to _expand_ on that?” Why was he so jealous, he asked himself, attempting to stamp it down?

“The bathrooms and showers are a communal space,” she told him with a sly smile. “And there’s only one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “No one uses _robes_?”

She shrugged, clearly enjoying herself. “Sometimes you forget.”

_“You forget?”_

She shrugged. “Take your pants off Armitage.”

“Where _exactly_ did you say these communal showers were?” He pressed, letting his belt fall to the floor.

“Hynestia,” she said without hesitation, her eyes never leaving his face. “I actually just walked here.”

He pulled his uniform shirt over his head as she watched, her smile widening. “I’ve seen this before.”

He sighed, reaching for the button on his pants. Was this how she felt?. What if she didn’t like what she saw? He spent a lot of time in space; unlike her, who clearly lived somewhere with enough sunlight to lightly tan her skin. He was pale, he looked tired because he _was_ tired, and when he slept with women, he typically didn’t give them a show first.

He kicked off his boots before pulling his pants down, stepping out with less grace than she had when she was in his position. Her eyes drifted downward as her smile faded. She bit her bottom lip and he was grateful, as he imagined she was, to have at least underwear on though his erection was clearly visible through the black fabric. Their eyes met and _finally,_ he turned off the light before meeting her in the middle of the room.

“You call the shots,” he told her, tilting her head upward. “If you want to stop, all you have to say is stop.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted, pressing her hands against his bare chest. He exhaled slowly at the sensation of her warm fingers pressed against his cool skin.

“You don’t have to be,” he practically whispered, eyes closed as she ran her hands up and down his skin. When was the last time someone really touched him? Outside of violence, he couldn’t remember. “We don’t have to do everything tonight.”

“I _want_ to,” she murmured, pressing her lips against his shoulder.

So did he, he thought, hauling her against him so he could kiss her hard. He wanted a lot of things, though nothing as badly as he wanted her, in that moment. She tasted sweet, like a sugared lemon, likely from whatever wine she’d been drinking all day.

With a smoothness he didn’t know he possessed, he swept her up, walking the five steps across the room to drop her onto the bed while she giggled wildly. In any other circumstance, with any other woman, he would have found it annoying. There was something utterly charming about Ayva, who was pulling the blankets back so she could wiggle beneath them. He supposed it had to do with the fact that there was nothing about him that should have appealed to her, and yet there she was, offering him a place in her bed. Other women might have seen a man who could give them something and used their sexuality as a weapon…he’d slept with some who had, assuming he was more sentimental than he was. Ayva, he was certain, had nothing to gain from him in her estimation and her giggling, a sound he hoped to hear no more of for his egos sake, was her own amusement and nothing more.

Like the previous night, he was all too happy to join her, climbing in next to her and pulling her hard against him. She draped a leg around his waist as she grabbed his face, kissing him hard.

He could have stayed like that, tangled around her body, his hands in her hair, as she touched the skin of his torso and back with a gentleness that threatened to make him cry but Ayva was endlessly handsy for someone that claimed she was nervous about what might happen between them. Her fingers, sliding just beneath the band of his underwear caused his brain to short circuit and reminded him that if he wasn’t proactive and didn’t stay on top of what was happening, she would take control of their first sexual encounter and he was likely to hurt her.

He was a man who _prided_ himself on self-control. In the scheme of things, it was one controlled evening on his part to ensure she wanted to continue being alone with him. He could lose control another night, when she was better prepared and knew what to expect.

He caught her hands, bringing them far away from his pants as she groaned audibly into his mouth, a sound of annoyance that caused his blood to burn.

“I want to touch it,” she whispered, breath hot against his neck. She was trying to kill him, he decided. He’d figured out the Resistance’s strategy and it was this woman, in his bed, begging to touch his cock. He willed himself to just breathe, a task made difficult by the feeling of her lips trailing down his neck. He’d lost control here. Time to take it back.

“Slow down,” he urged, reaching behind her back to undo the two tiny clasps that would free her of the bra. “What’s your hurry?”

She rolled from her side to her back once he’d unclasped so she could slide her arms out of the straps, and he regretted turning the lights off. He’d been staring down her dress for the majority of the evening, wondering what she’d look like naked and here she was, nearly naked and he was hampered from knowing what it looked like because of darkness.

He let his eyes adjust as best he could as he hovered over her. She laid there, chest rising and falling, and he could sense she was staring.

“You okay?” She whispered; her voice filled with the promise of teasing if he didn’t get himself together. Wordlessly, he closed the gap between them, pressing her naked skin against his as one knee pushed her legs apart so he could settle in on top of her without crushing her.

The only thing he could hear was the sound of her breathing beneath him. It was a helpful barometer to know if she liked what was happening. With some hesitation, he cupped her breast in his hand and her breath skittered, urging him on as he trailed soft kisses down her neck. Her fingernails raked softly down his back; he made a mental note to ask her to do that again, when some of the sexual tension between the two of them had been resolved.

She inhaled sharply when he captured her breast with his mouth, arching her body hard into his own. Without thinking, too focused on the soft noises escaping from her lips, he ground against her. Her hands flew to his hips, nails digging into his skin, as she arched her hips upward again, an obvious test he refused to fail; he pressed against her again, as hard as he could stand, his body unable to resist the relief it gave him to make physical contact with her, even if they were separated by flimsy cloth.

It was _impossible_ to continue this way, with her writhing beneath him, her fingers shoving down his underwear while trying to pretend he had even the smallest shred of self-control left. He didn’t. Summoning what little brain function he still possessed, he yanked the white lace off her own body, holding himself entirely still as she kicked them off gracelessly.

“I can stop,” he told her as his brain screamed in protest. “There’s time, I-“

“I’ll _kill_ you,” she panted in response, dragging his mouth back down to hers. She ran hands through his hair, kissing him frantically and he thought it wasn’t the worst way to die, all things considered.

He positioned himself just to the side of her as she tried to bring him back atop of her, grinding his teeth together with enough force that he was certain someone in the hallway could hear it.

“You need to know,” he breathed, kissing her hard as his hand slid downward, stopping only to tweak at her still wet nipples.

“Know what?” She asked moments before she bit at his bottom lip, sending all common sense out the window. This would be how he died; what a way to go.

He slid one finger as slowly as he could into her body, his brain shutting down as he registered how wet and warm she was. She froze, one hand gripping his bicep as he went in. They stayed there for a beat, neither moving at all. He was considering pulling out, afraid he’d taken it too far when she burst out laughing.

“That’s _it?_ ” She asked through her laughter. He frowned.

“What do you mean, _that’s it?_ ”

She was still giggling, that last thing he wanted to hear when he was physically in her body. He slid his finger out and back in again, stifling some of the giggling with a soft _oh_.

“I expected pain,” she told him, some humor still in her tone, though the heavy breathing was back.

“I told you, it’s not supposed to hurt,” he half groaned as she squeezed the walls of her body around him. Using his thumb, he began rubbing a lazy circle around her clit, hoping it would end the words coming out of her mouth so they could go back to kissing.

“Then why does everyone say it does?” She asked him with a breathiness that made him want to die.

He picked up the pace of his finger just a little, pressing his forehead against hers. “Because a lot of people are bad at sex.”

She’d know, by the time they finished, why some people said it hurt. He could have easily given her that experience when they first got into the bed by slamming himself into her body the first time he wanted to, without preparing her, without making sure she was wet enough or aroused enough.

“We don’t have to-“

“We do,” she growled, her hips moving to meet each thrust of his hand. Some small part of him wanted to argue the point, and he opened his mouth to do it, but she, perhaps aware that he was hanging on by the thinnest of threads, reached into his underwear and, without hesitation, wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his cock.

It was all over for him, in that moment. Let the woman have what she wanted. She stroked upward, laughing again.

“Ayva, I’m begging you. Please stop laughing.”

“Can’t a girl just be happy?” She asked moments before he covered her mouth with his own, extracting her grip from his body with some amount of disappointment so he could get out of the rest of his clothing and position himself right up against her. Her words slammed into his chest like a freight train.

_Happy._

Holding himself where he was in between her legs, he caressed her cheek. “Are you happy?” He asked as his heart flipped around in his chest.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation, her smile evident in her tone. He swallowed hard, pressing a kiss against the top of her forehead.

“Me too,” he agreed, unable to say anything else for fear the emotions building in his chest would overwhelm him.

He pressed the head of his cock against the wetness of her core, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. There was a substantial difference between one finger and the largeness of his erection, all fighting against his urge to bury himself deep inside her without any other considerations.

She was relaxed beneath him, clearly unaware of the internal battle he was fighting.

“I’m fine,” she promised, cupping his face and kissing him softly. “You worry too much.”

She forgot that, once, she’d asked him if it was possible to accidentally kill someone during sex, but he hadn’t. He didn’t bother reminding her, though he kept it at the forefront of his mind as he began sliding in. She inhaled sharply, one hand shooting to his chest and pressing against him slightly. He hesitated.

“Don’t stop,” she told him, curling her fingers into his skin. He exhaled in relief, sliding in as slowly as could muster, his entire body on edge. When he was fulling encased inside her, he relaxed just slightly, bringing his body back to hers. She wrapped her arms around his chest and breathed as they stayed there like that, neither one moving.

She squeezed around him like a vice, and it was all over for him. She was so wet, so _tight_ ; he couldn’t think about anything else. He slid outward slowly, hair in his face, before coming back as her hands ran down his rib cage, reaching for his ass. Her walls contracted around him again, almost pulsating and he groaned out loud without thinking.

He picked up his pace with an instinctiveness he wasn’t entirely in control of. She met him thrust for thrust, squeezing tightly around him each time their hips met, her breathing shallow and her nails dug deep into his skin.

He couldn’t do this like he normally could; the feelings he had for her heightened the physical sensation, making everything feel much better. He was already too close, having spent weeks imagining this moment in his head. He’d finish well before her if he didn’t do something to help her out.

She bit his neck harder than she might have intended to, though he didn’t care. He was too busy trying to get his hand between the two of them so he could rub her clit and bring her over the edge with him; they could do this again later, maybe in a few hours, when he was settled and knew what he was up against. More than anything, as the pads of his fingers rubbed the slick, swollen bud, he regretted not going down on her when he had the chance.

It made him feel better to know he wasn’t the only one who was slowly going insane. All her earlier rhythm was gone, replaced by something wild he couldn’t have kept pace with even if he wanted to. She keened beneath him as her fingernails dug hard into him. It urged him onward, even as pleasure built heavy and hard in his lower abdomen, threatening to completely undo him.

She came suddenly with nothing more than a soft _please,_ the walls of her body throbbing around him, bringing him over the edge with her. He thrusted in as deeply as he could get, holding himself there with the relief of release before he collapsed with exhaustion a top of her.

For a moment, they stayed like that, the only sounds their combined breathing. He could have fallen asleep in that position and was happy to try but, true to form, Ayva was laughing again. He sighed, pulling himself out of her body to roll next to her, one arm thrown across his eyes.

“What could possibly be funny now?” He demanded with no real malice.

“Do you remember asking me what I knew about a consummated marriage?” She giggled, bringing him back to Tion, the first place they’d ever spent alone…spent together.

“Ayva, don’t-“

“Did you ever imagine it would be you giving me that education?” She pressed on.

“A man can dream,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms. She sighed, resting her head on his chest.

“How far the mighty have falle-what do you mean, _a man can dream?_ ”

“Do _you_ remember that blue dress on Naboo?” He asked lazily, half asleep. He could see it in his mind; his first awareness of her physicality and how beautiful she was. It had been a difficult thing, in the moment; he’d gone to kill her and what had he done instead? He’d let her go.

“You’re lying,” she replied.

“I’m not,” he assured her.

“You told me you would have let me die, back on Tion, were our places reversed.” She accused.

“Yes, and then what did I turn around and do? I seem to recall you nearly drowned that day.”

“General Hux,” she breathed with mock severity. “Crushing on the enemy?”

“Get it out of your system now-"

“There I was, joking about twelve children and you were buying property-"

“I already have a home-"

“Picking out floral arrangements for a spring wedding-"

“I am allergic to-"

“Writing baby names in journals-"

“I assumed they would all be named for me, so no need to-"

“Doodling Armitage Bardak onto classified documents-"

“There we are, right on schedule. You’re absurd, Ayva.”

He could feel her smile against his skin. “Do you want to do it again?” She asked.

He laughed; he couldn’t help himself. He’d forgotten everything about the world except for her and he was happy about it.

“Let a man sleep first.”

“Fine. Sleep first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Helpful" chapter summary: Ayva made fun of Hux; Hux pretended to be irritated about it.


	18. Iris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like the end of this chapter.

_And I'd give up forever to touch you 'cause I know that you feel me somehow_

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now_

_And all I can taste is this moment_

_And all I can breathe is your life_

_And sooner or later it's over; I just don't want to miss you tonight_

_And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think they'd understand_

_When everything's made to be broken_

_I just want you to know who I am._

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

The break was helpful in someways. It gave Ayva a chance to cry quickly, strange, heaving sobs that made words impossible. Poe and Rose offered encouraging words, reminding her that she could get through this. There was so much they didn't know and not for the first time, she wished Leia was still there. She would know what to say. 

"It's not too late to break him out," Rose offered as Poe watched, dark eyes carefully guarded. Ayva shook her head.

"And give them a reason to one day try us?" 

"I know it's a lot," Poe interrupted, hand on her back. "But you're doing great. You've painted a really clear picture of how complicated this war was and I think, how blind the last regime was."

"Are they going to let him go?" Ayva asked, watching off to the side as Baume and Szàbo took their seats again.

Rose and Poe exchanged a glance. It was clear they weren't sure how this was going to go.

"Just tell them the truth, and we'll worry about the rest later," Rose told her with a soft smile.

"We'll be here the entire time," Poe added. "Right behind you. You aren't alone."

Ayva nodded, flinching slightly at the sound of a gavel. They looked at each other one last time before she straightened her spine and retook her seat in front of everyone. 

"You slept with him," Szàbo began, cutting off whatever question Baume had. "Please, describe what followed."

She took a deep breath. 

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

She was so used to waking up alone that she didn’t think twice about flinging her arms outward to stretch.

“Mmph!”

She turned her head, overly pleased to find Armitage still in bed.

“It’s not morning,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

It was true that light from the sun had not yet begun peeking through the window, but that didn’t mean she was going to go back to sleep. For one, there he was, Armitage Hux, feared General of the First Order, in _her_ bed. _Naked._

She giggled and he groaned the moment he heard it.

“No more of that, thank you very much.”

“Armitage,” she whispered, wiggling beneath the blankets until their noses were practically touching.

“I’m not doing this with you,” he told her, eyes clamped shut.

“Armitage,” she whispered again, waiting until he opened one eye.

“I swear, Ayva, I need you to hear me when I say this. If you say something absurd, or ridiculous, I will haul you out of this bed and leave you alone in the hall.”

“Where _anyone_ could find me?” She challenged.

“Yes, Ayva. Where _anyone_ could find you and you better hope it’s not Peavy because I’m told he has a thing for blondes.”

“I think I’d make a really good officer’s wife.”

“No, wait, that’s not what I-"  
“For one, I’m _so good_ at ironing and I feel like, with the way he wears his uniforms, he’d need someone like that in his life-“

“What did I _just_ say-"

“I can also look the other way when he inevitably commits treasons and runs off with all those Imperial secrets-"

She burst out laughing when his fingers found their way into the spaces between her ribs, tickling her without mercy.

“What did I say?” He asked her, hovering above her.

“You better stop,” she gasped, aware any threat she made was hollow.

“Or you’ll do what, Bardak? Hm? Give me the worst you’ve got.”

He let her go, pulling her into his reclined body. “You’ll feel my wrath later,” she promised.

“I’m certain I won’t,” he replied dryly. “Now, please, what was so important that you needed to wake me from the best sleep I’ve had in…” He trailed off as if he couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept for so long. She leaned over him, hair tickling his face, to look at the time.

“It’s been _four_ hours, Armitage,” she reproached. “Now who is exaggerating?”

“Call me an insomniac.”

“So I wore you out?”

He sighed. “Is this your promised wrath? If so, it’s working.”

“You’re awfully mean to the woman who is offering you unrestricted access to her body.”

“Is that what’s happening here?”

She giggled again. “Unless you’re not interested?”  
He kissed her, a lazy gesture born from the place they found themselves in, already undressed and intwined around the other.

“What did you want to say?” He asked softly, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I _did_ want to make fun of you,” she admitted, running fingers across his ribcage.

“I know you did,” he acknowledged. “Say it.”

“What was it like, sleeping with rebel scum?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Best night of my life.”

All the urgency she’d felt earlier in the night had vanished, replaced by knowing what it was like to have him. He’d promised her time and now, buried beneath blankets, he gave it to her. She kept pace, carefully exploring ever spare inch of his skin beneath her hands. She spent too much time tracing every scar across his back, willing herself to memorize it like a map. Somewhere, in those faint marks, was who he could have been if someone had ever thought to touch him with anything other than violence.

One moment, his mouth trailing slowly down her stomach, it occurred to her that she didn’t need to really do anything to _save_ him. It was all there, beneath the hard ice he wore as skin, the warmth and compassion existed beneath the surface, waiting for the smallest fissure to erupt. Hynestia, a fraught political disaster certainly, had become strange paradise she would never be able to think about without remembering him as he was now, touching her like she was something he was terrified to lose. He wasn’t alone, though she didn’t know how to tell him that.

Faint pink and yellow light streamed into the room by the time he collapsed next to her, red hair slick against his forehead, faint smile on his lips.

“Say it again,” she murmured, leaning on her elbow so she could look down at him.

“Rebel scum?” He asked, clearly confused. She shook her head.

“No. Tell me you’re happy.”  
His blue eyes were filled with warmth. “I’m happy, Ayva. Are you?”

She was smiling so wide it hurt. “Against unbelievable odds, yes, Armitage. I am.”

She knew they’d have to get up and put on their masks and the spell settled around them would vanish, replaced by the harshness of the galaxy they lived in. She was playing with his hand as she replayed every choice she’d made that brought them here.

“Do you ever think about how weird things are?” She asked absently, tracing the lines against his palm with her fingers.

“What do you mean?” He asked her, eyes closed.

“I asked you if you were safe, once. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. If I hadn’t, what would have happened?”

“Mmm,” he agreed noncommittally. She would have been content to leave it there, but he spoke again. “Fate.”

“What?”

“You called it fate, remember? On Tion, you were waxing poetic about fate and I thought you were ridiculous, but I’m inclined to reconsider your position.”

“Everything I said on Tion was to get a rise out of you,” she told him casually.

“Doesn’t mean you were wrong,” he replied easily. “Sometimes I wonder…too. There was no reason for you to care about me at all. Why _did_ you?”

She turned her head so they could look at each other. She didn’t know, even now. “I just did,” she finally said. “Leia told me, after Tion I think, that you and I had a lot in common and I think that was most of it. Something I can’t explain…it just recognized we were the same.”

“We’re not the same,” he said fiercely, as if it upset him to imagine them on the same level.

“We are,” she reassured him. “Look.”

She sat up, aware that sunlight would illuminate the faintness of the scar. Unlike his, still red, hers had faded to white, a thin line of raised skin impossible to see unless you knew what to look for. She swept her hair to the side and reached behind her, letting her thumb trace from the base of her neck downward, stopping just below her ribcage. He sat up, too, his fingers following behind her own.

“My mom was so mad,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Every night she’d rub my skin with this terrible smelling bacta mixture while shouting through the walls at my father.”

“For hurting you?” Armitage asked.

“For leaving a mark.”

He kissed the top of her shoulder. “I’ll kill him for it.”

“Like you did your father?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I spent my entire childhood fantasizing about it…my escape.”

She smiled, nodding her head. “I used to dream about escape, too.”

“You managed it without resorting to my methods.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed with a casual shrug. “I’ve resorted to your methods once or twice in my life.”

“Ayva?”

She hesitated, reaching for a robe to wrap around her. “Mm?”

“It was good for you, right?”

She nodded. “It was perfect.”

She hadn’t lied about ensuring he felt her wrath. She had a red dress that evoked Empire-esq aesthetics modest by the galaxy’s standards without embellishment or any cut outs that showed skin. Long sleeves, a modest neckline, and no exposed back, just tight fabric all the way down, the ends skimming the floor. She left her hair down, having curled it carefully, and painted her lips bright red after winging out her eyeliner, satisfied she couldn’t look any closer to some of the women she’d seen, long after the Empire had collapsed, with her mother, wishing for it again.

Her hair was too wild to truly be evocative of the Empire in the truest sense, but it was as close as _she’d_ ever get. It was Rinetta’s birthday celebration part two, a celebration that the planet celebrated through elaborate songs and dance, food and wine, both in and out of the palace walls. Ayva had no intention of going outside the palace to celebrate, too adverse to the cold. The ballroom was already brimming with people, just as it had been the night before, though no one was dancing much to her relief. Light flooded in through huge, glass cut windows as she walked in, head held high as she willed herself not to think about her near miss with her wedding. She’d _escaped_ that. Everything she’d done since then had been her choice. Why did she still feel so haunted by the past?

She stepped down the last step, eyes finding Armitage like a magnet; he was always easy to spot, even in a sea of people in black clothing. He was always the tallest man in the room, though she was certain she could have found him if he was in a room with a hundred other men with red hair and First Order uniforms.

His expression was unreadable; fine by her. She kept her head up, tossing a blonde curl over her shoulder as though she was above him and hadn’t literally been beneath him twice in one night.

“Not much different than Coruscant,” Riyan commented as she sat in her usual chair, pushing a tray of food towards her. “All this pageantry just for the sake of it.”

She was inclined to agree with him on that front.

“First Order is _loving_ this, of course. Anything that keeps us from negotiating.”

“Is there any sense trying?” She asked him, impressed at how quickly someone put wine into her cup. She’d be drunk by noon if things stayed so prompt.

“No,” he grumbled, sinking back into his chair as he messed with the blue fabric of his robes. “Rinetta has all but outright said she won’t hear anything about the Republic.”

“She’s not considering the First Order’s proposition, surely.”

“No. She’s trying to wait them out, or, worse, provoke a fight as an excuse to engage in open warfare. A war they’d almost certainly _lose.”_

“Why won’t the Republic send aid?”

He glanced at her. “We don’t have a standing Navy anymore. The Chancellor is relying too heavily on the Resistance keeping any “true” threat at bay, and judging by your presence, I’m guessing they don’t have enough people to spare.”

“What does the Republic know about the First Order?” She probed, curious.

He shook his head, his expression darkening. “No one takes it seriously, despite their political party rising prominently in the last couple years. It’ll take open war with the Republic itself before anyone admits they’re a problem.”

“I wonder what it would take to end it,” she asked absently, only half invested in the conversation.

“A meteor that killed us all,” Riyan replied, standing, his hand extended. “Dance?”

“No one is…” she trailed off. Everyone was dancing, it seemed, to a tune that apparently, they all knew the steps to.

“One dance,” she agreed. “And just _one.”_

“Something tells me you’ll be popular today,” he replied, spinning slightly before pulling her into him. She let him lead, grateful he seemed to know well enough.

“It’s the dress, right?” She joked, hand on his shoulder. It was the first time since he’d arrived that she found Riyan tolerable. He seemed to have realized this, too.

“You really are so unlike your father,” he commented, a clear compliment. “How did he manage that.”

“Good luck,” she offered conspiratorially.

“What do you do with the Resistance, exactly?”

“Would you believe that I never miss a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. He seemed to consider her words.

“Bardak’s daughter? Okay, I’ll buy it. And Hux, what’s the connection there?”

She looked over Riyan’s shoulder, surprised to see how intensely Hux was looking at her. She shot him a quick wink.

“I told you, he tortured me once.”

“How’d he _catch_ you?”

She almost laughed. “I blew up a building. I forgot about that.”

“That’s it?”

“The most interesting parts of it.”

The music slowed, and with it, so did they. “Something tells me that’s not true. It was nice to bask in your glow, Ayva. We don’t have to be enemies, you know.”  
A subtle reminder, even if it was unintentional, that he’d come for competing reasons. Looking around, she wondered how it was possible that the only person she could count on was the one man everyone was so afraid of.

“I think I might go see how things are set up in the great hall,” she told him with a smile, excusing herself before she could roped into more dancing.

It was as if Rinetta had brought the entire city into the palace and despite the noise and crowd, Ayva quite enjoyed it all the same. The great hall, an enormous structure to start with, was packed with people, milling about, stalls selling food, jewelry, and flowers, among other things. Music intermingled with the chatter, creating a soft background noise that settled in the back of her mind. She stopped in front of one of the stands, selling bracelets adorned with different colored crystal beads when a voice she was all too familiar with asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” she replied, looking up to see Armitage peering down at the jewelry with some disdain. He picked up a yellowed beaded bracelet and handed it to her, exchanging some credits with the shop owner.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said with a frown, though she clutched it in her fist regardless. They stepped away, waking slowly towards the next booth.

“Sure I did,” he said after a moment, looking over the heads walking past, as though he were trying to find something.

She slid the bracelet onto her wrist without looking, adopting some of his bored disinterest for anyone who might be studying them.

“Thank you,” she told him, her tone formal enough that it caused him to look down at her with curious eyes.

“Is this your famed wrath?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know…your whole… _I’m too good to look at you.”_

“What?” She looked at him as she suppressed a laugh. “The _dress_ was supposed to be my wrath.”

“Oh.” He looked down at her again. “You’ve worn a lot of dresses.”

“What would _you_ prefer?” She asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

“For you? Nothing, if that’s an option.”

She shot him a look of irritation. “I spent so much time curling my hair this morning.”

He looked helpless, clearly unaware she’d done anything to her appearance at all. He _woke up_ next to her. How could he possibly think this was just how she was, at any given moment?

“What a waste,” she commented with no real anger as they walked. He opened his mouth and closed it again, watching her peer down at an assortment of fabric at the next stall they’d reached.

“You look nice,” he tried when she stepped back, making way for others to take her place.

“Save it, General,” she said with a mock sigh. “You sleep with a man one time and suddenly his interest in you wanes…”

“My interest has _not-"_

“Who will want me now, tainted by the-"

“You keep joking about what is happening between us, but I want you to know that I am _very serious,”_ Armitage interrupted firmly, hand resting against her elbow.

“Please, enlighten me, how will you explain to your superiors that you’ve fallen for _rebel scum?”_

He shot her a look. “What makes you think I would ever need to discuss my personal life with _anyone_ outside of you?”

“So, what, you just stroll in one day, newly married to an open member of the Resistance-"

“We’re _married_ now, are we-"

“Just a, ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you guys so make yourself available to my _wife_ ’”-

“I wouldn’t _bring you_ -“

“I, of course, rifle through _all_ your things-"

“Well that’s nothing new-"

“Convert several of your officers, making them _part_ of the Resistance-"

He sighed with exasperation and she imagined, from the outside looking in, it appeared as though she was giving him a difficult time which wasn’t entirely true.

“If you’re looking for a permanent home, consider yourself spoken for,” he sniffed.

“And you? Are _you_ looking for a _wife?”_

He kept his chin jutted in the air, looking straight ahead as if this question were beneath him. “I could be persuaded.”

She burst out laughing which only made him scowl deeper. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sorry at all.

A muscle was jumping in his jaw. “What did Riyan want?”  
“Coincidentally, he was also interested in marrying me-"  
“Ayva I swear to the maker.”

“You’re edgy today,” she complained. “He wanted to talk trash about the First Order. You guys are kind of _jerks,_ you know?”

“No, I do _not_ know that,” he retorted, more ice injected into his tone.

“He thinks we should leave. He’s probably right.”  
“Are you thinking of leaving with him?”

She shrugged. “I _was_ planning to go to Coruscant after this.”

He looked down at her sharply. “Do you have a _death wish,_ Ayva?”

“Not if you’re there,” she said slyly, sidling up to a booth selling pastries. She could feel him behind her, at a literal loss for words as she paid for a jam filled donut, too pleased with herself for dropping this on him the way she did.

His eyes were narrowed to slits as he watched her take a bite. “What do you mean, _if you’re there?”_

“I just assumed you’d come along,” she said as innocently as she could muster, careful to keep her eyes wide and any giggling out of her throat.

“Oh, you assumed, did you? Assumed I’m available on a whim, to drop everything, to-“

“You don’t have to,” she said with fake nonchalance. “I can go _alone._ ”

“Al-alone?” He spluttered, his face turning just the faintest shade of red. “Obviously I will join you I just…you wouldn’t prefer someone else? Dameron, perhaps?”

She regretted her teasing with an instant. Sometimes she thought he was hanging on by the thinnest of threads; it was becoming glaringly obvious to her that _no one_ had ever chosen him first in his entire life.

“No one else,” she told him simply, finishing her food. “Just you.”

She didn’t know how it was possible, but he stood just a little straighter after that.


	19. Here With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever write a chapter that isn't 10 pages long? No. I've come to accept this about myself. I could have broken this chapter up, but I think we all know what I'm about at this point.
> 
> Just a quick note, if you're here for the softness but not the smut, skip the closet and skip the bedroom. 
> 
> ALSO. If anyone has free time and wants to help me with certain sections of this story, please send me a message. I have two different versions of several of the upcoming chapters that I'm struggling with (or if you just want to read whatever version I didn't go with, like a choose your own adventure story!) and would love any insight.

_You give me highs to lose my breath, that leave me wanting more_

_You gave me lows I won't forget, that left me on the floor_

_You're every thing and nothing else is ever what it seems_

_Until the lights go dark, until the end of me_

_I'd give up all my tomorrows to be here with you_

_Walk off the world just to follow, to follow you_

_Through every waking hour_

_Through all that time devours_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

"Did you, at any point, consider reaching out to you superior officer?" Szàbo asked Ayva, clearly regretting his decision to take part in this panel.

"Yes," Ayva admitted honestly. "Several times."

"But you didn't?"

"No."

"Because you felt you couldn't trust them?"

"Because I was concerned they might be angry with me...or ask me to leave."

Baume peered down at her, her expression softening. "Was that ever a true concern?"

"No," Ayva told her. "But I was unaware of that at the time."

"Would things have played out different, had you told General Organa the truth as it was happening?" Szábo pressed.

"I don't know," Ayva admitted. "It's possible."

"But to be clear, Leia did come to know the entirety of what happened?" Baume continued.

"Yes. She knew everything."

"And she continued to utilize your skills?"

"She promoted me," Ayva reminded the room. "To General, in the end."

"That's right," Baume said with a smile. "Please, Ayva, continue."

\--

\---

\--

Nothing good ever lasted and to that end, Hux left her to deal with interests that didn’t concern her. Avoiding Riyan forced her into solitude, though she was surrounded by more people than she ever had in her life. With that solitude came the resurgence of what she was _supposed_ to be doing versus what she _wanted_ to be doing. She was so far over the line of what might be considered acceptable in terms of ferreting out what Hux was up to that Ayva thought it might be better to just cut her losses and go home now before she did something she couldn’t walk back.

There were too many competing interests she didn’t know how to manage. She liked to solve her problems with a detonator and not her words; how was she supposed to navigate a situation as fraught as the one she was in without any explosives? She wanted to trust Leia and the wisdom of this plan and a mission Ayva had all but begged to be a part of, but now Ayva had doubts.

She found Rinetta alone, walking down a hall towards the small study she’d first met her in. Ayva decided to go for broke and just ask Rinetta to consider joining the Republic. If Riyan was right and war was eminent, what could it possibly hurt? If Rinetta said yes, she’d call Leia and _beg_ for help, feelings for Armitage be damned.

“Ayva Bardak,” Rinetta began when Ayva jogged up to her. “Just the woman I wanted to see.

“You should join the Republic,” Ayva said without preamble. Rinetta raised an eyebrow.

“I think we’re a little beyond that, don’t you?” She asked.  
“I know what the First Order is capable of. You can’t negotiate with them. Agree to join and I’ll call the Resistance-“

“When I was young, I thought a lot like you,” Rinetta interrupted, her dark eyes settling on Ayva’s face as she opened the heavy door of the study. “It’s a condition of youth, I think, to have hope that things will work out the way you want them to. War is coming, Ayva Bardak, and nothing you, or I, or the Republic is going to stop that. Even if the Republic _could_ intervene on our behalf, for how long. Weeks? Months? No. Hynestia will accept her fate, whatever it is, outside of the Republic, who has made it abundantly clear they could not help, even if they wanted to. I requested that Leia send someone who could distract our friends, though I must admit, I didn’t expect her to send someone the General _loved_. How funny.

“He doesn-“

Rinetta held up her hand, silencing Ayva. “He does…but to the point, and the matter at hand; Senator Riyan has been open in what the Republic is willing to do for Hynestia, and the sector in general and beyond the creation of a new trade route, which will benefit the Republic far more heavily than the sector itself, I see no reason to join.”

Ayva was on the verge of screaming.

“So you just, what, give up?”

“Of course not,” Rinetta replied serenely. “We’ll fight back, but diplomacy is more than beautiful dresses and sniping with your words. It’s knowing when to hold your cards and when to reveal your hand.”

She pulled a heavy brown box from one of the bookshelves and handed it to Ayva. “Consider this me revealing my hand.”

Ayva looked up at Rinetta’s face before accepting the box. She opened the lid and peered inside at a strangely carved, red object.

“This was left behind by the Empire, decades ago, back when my mother ruled. They’re looking for it even as we speak, though whatever trail they’re following hasn’t brought them to Hynestia. Yet.”

“What is it?” Ayva asked, resisting the urge to touch it. Rinetta closed the distance between them, slamming the lid to the box closed.

“A sith holocron. Inside, it contains information that only someone strong in the dark side could pry open and read. I have hidden it, like my mother before me when she came across it, but it won’t be safe if the First Order succeeds in their quest to take the planet, and to that end, I leave it in your care.”

“I don’t-“  
“Consider this my personal assurance that, when the moment calls for it, you’ll do the right thing.”

Ayva looked back down at the box. “And if I can’t?”

Rinetta covered her hands over Ayva’s. “You can. I know it, and I’m certain, because Leia sent you when she could have come herself, that she knows it too.”

Ayva sighed, accepting the box though she personally thought there was no one worse to have handed it to. It Rinetta knew she and Hux had a thing, what was stopping Ayva from joining him and handing it over and cementing the trust he already had in her with something concrete. She’d never have to sell out the Resistance as long as she possessed it. It was like being handed an incredible amount of cash and owing a debt to the Hutts.

“And Ayva?”

Ayva paused at the doorway, still turning the box over in her mind. “Yeah?”

“Tomorrow morning, it will be of the utmost importance you take our friend Hux out of the city.”

She looked back at Rinetta, watching her with a shrewdness that made her uncomfortable. Ayva knew they would never see each other again. She nodded and stepped back out into the hall.

She’d dropped the box off to her bedroom, hidden at the bottom of her bag, wrapped in any number of discarded dresses. She was heading back to the Great Hall for more food and, now that noon had passed, alcohol as well. It was time to accept that she had lost control of the situation, she thought, wondering if it was time to call Leia and ask for help.

Strolling down the hall, lost in her own thoughts, she was caught off guard when a hand grabbed her from a closet she never would have noticed, were she not being dragged inside it. Her first instinct, without thinking, was to fight. Her elbow shot upwards, blocked by a firm hand.

“Calm down Ayva,” Hux whispered sternly, an arm encircling her waist. “You’re _safe.”_

“What are you _doing?”_ She grumbled, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. There was precious little space to maneuver, which she supposed was the point.

“Taking a moment to myself,” he replied, looking down at her. It was difficult to gauge his expression in the darkness around them though she wasn’t _stupid._ He was clearly looking for somewhere to be alone.

“How did you know I’d walk by?” She asked, some of her panic subsiding into the ridiculousness of him hiding in a closet, hoping she’d walk by.

“I saw you come down. I thought I would wait.”

“You could have just followed me into the bedroom,” she reminded him.

“ _You_ could stop talking,” he suggested, moments before his finger hooked beneath her chin, lifting her face upward so he could kiss her.

All common sense flew out the window the minute their lips touched. She was on edge, way too wound up in the moment to want any kind of reciprocation. What she really wanted was to wreck his entire day and, along with it, any plans he had. She wanted to be the only thing he thought about until they were alone again, and that end, she had an idea.

She may have been inexperienced, but it didn’t mean she lacked knowledge. She’d sat at enough mess hall tables with Poe and his rogue squadrons, made up of mainly men, to have a solid understanding of the kind of sexual acts people performed on one another. Outside of actual sex, which they’d done twice the night before, one act seemed to reign supreme, at least for men.

He was blissfully unaware of her scheme, kissing her with all the softness of a man who was just genuinely happy to be touched by someone who wanted him back. She pressed herself against his body as her hand slid downward.

“How are you already hard?” She whispered against his mouth before dragging kisses along his jaw.

“Just am,” he breathed, back pressed against the closet wall. Her mouth found his again, hampered from reaching his neck thanks to the stiff collar of his uniform. He didn’t seem to mind, nor did he seem to be aware of where her hand was going or what her fingers were up to until she’d undone his belt and the button keeping his pants up. She bit his bottom lip as she gripped the base of his cock, her knees bending slightly; he grabbed her arms before she could sink to her knees, kissing hard with a suddenness that took her breath away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He breathed before his tongue slipped into her mouth. Maybe she’d been wrong, and she did want to stay here, just like this. Her body, so sure it had been too irritated to enjoy anything he might do, was burning suddenly, heat pooled between her legs.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered back, refocusing herself. If she did this right, he’d be a mess for the rest of the day, well worth any sexual frustration she might feel in the moment. He didn’t stop her this time, from sinking down to her knees and she hoped, more than anything else, the floor was clean, so she didn’t have to change out of her clothes.

She’d paid no attention to this appendage the evening before, prevented at first by darkness and then shyness the next morning. It felt almost rude to ask to see it and she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve in the moment. The closet itself was dark, but light peaked through the crack at the bottom of the door, giving her some ability to perceive him and to that end, his erection in front of her.

She didn’t know what she expected. It looked like every other penis she’d ever seen, though this one was erect and inches from her face. Her hand, encircled around the shaft, just barely fit around it and it was twice as long as her fist.

“Are you planning to _draw_ it?” Armitage asked from above her, clearly on edge. She looked up at him, aware he likely couldn’t see the look she shot him _._

She stroked upward once, then twice, a little lost on how exactly to coordinate all these things at once. She assumed, once it was in her mouth, she’d find a combination of motions that worked best for her, but it was intimidating at the start.

“You don’t have-“

The moment he started to say it, her competitive nature took over. She _knew_ she didn’t _have_ to. She wanted to. She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and slid down as far as she could while still retaining her ability to breathe. Above her, he stiffened with an audible gasp and she found it wasn’t as difficult as she was imagining. Her lips naturally formed a neat little barrier around her teeth, which she knew for sure, given all the joking that had happened on base, was an unpleasant experience, and with some coordination between her hand and mouth, found it much easier than she’d originally been picturing.

Her free hand braced her body against his thigh, still covered by his pants, and Armitage, and what she suspected was an attempt to be helpful, scooped up all her hair and held it above her head. Her jaw and her knees ached a little, but she otherwise found sucking his cock fun, in a strange way. He was absolutely falling to pieces above her, occasionally tugging her hair or groaning just loud enough for her to hear him. She also found that he tasted good _everywhere,_ with that same slightly leather taste she’d grown accustomed to, mixed with whatever soap he used on his body.

As his breathing increased, she picked up speed, assuming there was little difference between sucking him and how he fucked her when he was close. She bobbed her head up and down, eyes closed, as his fingers curled tightly into her hair.

“Ayva,” he gasped above her, tugging slightly. “Ayva, I’m going to come.”

_Okay,_ she thought, unable to say anything. _Then do it._

“Ayva-“ he began again before holding her exactly where she was, mouth wrapped around his cock. She almost pulled away, confused, when she felt warm fluid flood into her mouth and down her throat. She understood, too late, he was trying to warn her. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, to plan for what she’d do when he actually came, but now that it was too late, she just swallowed it as he pulled away. There was something vulnerable about the act that made it enjoyable for her, even if the taste was just okay. 

He was tucking himself back into his pants with a quickness and she leaned back on her heels, stretching out her jaw. He reached down and pulled her to her feet and into his arms, still breathing hard. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she hugged him back, kissing the top of his head.

“Now you-“

“Later,” she interrupted, pulling out of the embrace.

“But-“

“Later.”

He found her later in the evening, making her way to the bar in the ballroom to refill her empty glass. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon laughing and talking with several society ladies who, while clearly under the influence, wanted to discuss their various sexual exploits with unnamed society men throughout the galaxy. Ayva, so used to these conversations from men, found something utterly delightful in hearing women talk about their conquests without shame. She wanted to go back to her little corner, far away from the politics of men, but was thwarted by the only man she really liked.

“What are you giggling about?” He asked when she walked up. She handed her empty glass to the bartender before turning her head to talk to him.

“Men,” she told him honestly. His eyes narrowed.

“What kind of men?”

“All men,” she replied, watching as a glass of whiskey was set in front of him. He picked it up, hands hidden in gloves again, and took a sip.

“Has something put you off men?” He questioned, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“No,” she replied, settling into a chair. “Sometimes it’s just nice to laugh at them.”

“Have you eaten?” He continued, clearly making his way toward an end game.

“Not yet.”

“You should.”

“Oh? Is there a reason _why_ I need to eat, or are you just generally concerned for my well-being?”

He swiped her glass of wine before she could take it. “Put food in your stomach, Ayva. I have plans for you tonight, and I can’t execute any of them if you’re drunk.”

“You make it sound so sinister,” she complained as he left, leaving her empty handed.

“Harassing the General?” Riyan took Hux’s spot at the bar.

“Not exactly,” she grumbled with irritation. She looked over her shoulder to see him take his seat at his usual table, his eyes laser focused on her. She scowled back.

“What are you drinking?” Riyan asked conversationally, clearly looking to pick up where they’d left off earlier that day.

“Water,” she said, turning back around. “I need to eat something.”

“Say no more,” Riyan told her with a smile, and she thought, in that moment, he was probably popular on Coruscant, with all that curly hair flopping chaotically into his face. He hopped out of his chair and offered her his hand, and she took it, if for no other reason she _knew_ it would get a rise out of Armitage. She realized, as she walked, she _was_ a little drunk. Everything felt just a little bit better, looked a little nicer. If she kept herself right here, she’d be fine for whatever shenanigans he was currently entertaining when he _should_ have been plotting.

Success, she thought, sitting at her table with Riyan; a perfect view of Hux, one crossed leg jangling with what she could only assume was irritation. As Riyan began pulling dishes closer to them, she raised her glass of water to Hux, a mock toast she knew irked him. His expression was so dark, she thought it held promise. He was a little _too_ nice to her. It would be nice if he took off the kid gloves.

She ate like she’d never tasted food before as Riyan talked; she wasn’t even pretending to listen. All she wanted was to be _alone;_ away from the noise and the talking and forced smiles and uncomfortable clothes. She looked up again, aware she was being watched. It was an art, the way Armitage held a conversation while watching her from his periphery. His grip on his glass looked painful and she wondered if he’d extend her the same courtesy later, when it was just them.

“-Dancing again,” Riyan said, cutting through her thoughts like a knife. She looked at the dance floor, eyes narrowed. To her surprise, and, with more than a little jealousy, she watched a woman she didn’t know walk out with Armitage, who looked unbothered by the entire thing.

“What do you think a man like that is like, when he’s alone?” Riyan mused, also watching Hux sweep the attractive brunette up in his arms, moving in time with the music.

“Repressed,” Ayva muttered, annoyed he was playing her game better than she was. Not for the first time, she wanted to know who taught him how to dance.

“He freaks me out,” Riyan continued as the brunette laughed, head thrown back. Ayva frowned. There was no way he said anything half as funny that might warrant that kind of response. “Look, that woman is practically throwing herself at him and he looks so _bored.”_

Ayva could see he’d miscalculated, and it gave her just the smallest amount of joy. Riyan had mistaken boredom with concern. He looked over his dancing partners shoulders and found her. She offered him a smile and shook her shoulders slightly in time to the music before she went back to her food. If he wanted to wind her up, there were better ways to do it.

Her smiled faded slightly when she saw him take his gloves off, one at a time, still dancing. Riyan had stopped watching Hux, his attention back on his drink and the politics of Coruscant, giving Ayva more leeway to watch him touch this woman with bare hands.

Jealousy faded into longing and Ayva suddenly found she wasn’t hungry anymore. She wanted it to be _them,_ her and him, dancing openly without having to conceal their true intentions. It had seemed so natural, this dynamic they’d created but watching him dance with another woman, who could laugh and smile and touch him without fear of what anyone else thought reminded her that there was nothing _natural_ about anything between them, because it was a secret.

To her, it felt like a tragedy, to want him as much as she did, to care about him so much it burned through her body like the air she breathed, and at the same time, it could only ever be a secret.

She wanted _more._ She wanted more and she couldn’t have it like anyone else could. It wasn’t enough to just admit there was something electric between them because they were supposed to _hate_ each other.

His dance ended but the conversation with his partner did not. She kept her eyes down before he saw her watching him and caught on that she wasn’t having fun anymore.

“More alcohol?” Riyan asked her, perhaps also catching on to her shift in mood.

“No,” she told him quickly, well aware alcohol wouldn’t make anything feel better. The last thing she needed was to cry in the bathroom halfway through the night, especially since Poe wasn’t there to talk her down. Armitage wasn’t ready to see her like that.

“I should probably go to bed,” she admitted after watching another group of people dance; Armitage, and his partner, had vanished from view. Riyan let her leave without incident or comment, lost in his own thoughts that Ayva wasn’t particularly interested in.

At the end of the hall, leaning against a pillar, Armitage Hux watched her with impossibly dark blue eyes. His cheeks were flushed slightly, and he was still ungloved. She kept pace until she reached him, eyes looking straight ahead as he fell into step with her. She brushed her fingers against his hand as they walked, watching his smirk fade out of the corner of her eye. He was all talk until she touched him.

“What are you doing?” He asked when their hands brushed again.

“Pretending we’re holding hands,” she replied smoothly, eyes still focused on the path ahead of her.

“Ah,” he replied, brushing his fingers along hers with intentionality. She caught one of his fingers, hooked in her own, just for a moment. Their hands dropped to their side as someone passed them, though just the way they were walking marked them as being clearly together. IT was enough for anyone who knew them to really stop and pause.

He followed her into her room as though he belonged and, in every way that mattered to her, he did. She could see some unease poking through his confident mask. He caught her hands, bringing them up to his chest, head tilted as he looked down at her.

“You want to hold hands, hm?” He asked her softly, eyes burning as he stared.

“And dance with you,” she admitted, glancing upward.

“Oh, I get it,” he said with a sly smile, rearranging their position until her hand was clasped in his and he was holding her around the waist, swaying softly to music that only existed in his mind. “Ayva Bardak is _jealous.”_

“Jealous,” she scoffed, her tone mocking, “Of another woman dancing with the love of _my life?_ Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, spinning her away from his body before catching her again. “There’s no reason to be jealous of Mirenna, though we _were_ nearly engaged once.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Much like you in the sense that your marriage was arranged, so too was this, though it fell through before anything could come from it.”

“How come?”

“I thought, a little foolishly, that having a wife might help my chances at a promotion. Mirenna and I had a lot in common, and I began arranging it.”

“But it fell through? Why?”

He grinned, his eyes far away. “I got my promotion.”

“So you just, what, left her at the alter?” Ayva demanded with no real malice.

He shrugged, utterly unrepentant. “Are you indignant on behalf of a woman who would have been your rival, had I gone through with it?”

“Oh, so you’d cheat on your wife, would you?”

“For you? Absolutely.”

“Armitage Hux, family man,” Ayva joked.

“No one would call me that,” he told her seriously. “And you joke, but it would have been advantageous for her as well. Mirenna does not have your illustrious background.”

“Ah yes, the Bardak name has really done me a lot of favors,” she teased, still swaying. He spun her again.

“Well, it _might have,_ if your father had any sense. If he’d chosen a man much younger, more to your liking, would you have still run off?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Most sixteen-year old’s don’t want to be married, even if the man in question is good looking.”

“And if Bardak had given you the choice to select your own match, what then?”

“He probably would have been disappointed,” Ayva told Armitage seriously, “Bringing _you_ home.”

“I hardly believe _that.”_

“If he’d given me the choice, I would have vanished the minute I was out of his grasp and probably would have ended up right here, with you, exactly as we are. I think he understood that about me and that was why he was so willing to arrange the marriage, despite my age...I was an investment and he wanted to see return on it.”

“Lucky me,” Hux replied dryly, his grip on her waist tightening slightly.

“Not lucky you. Can you _imagine_ what would have happened when I found out you were a married man? Dead. You’d be absolutely _dead.”_

“What a way to go,” he murmured, taking her face in his hand so he could kiss her. They stopped moving, still frozen in position. Part of her wanted to end the kiss before it began so they could stay as they were, talking and dancing. There was an intimacy to it, a softness to him, that felt imagined, made up in her mind.

He broke this kiss, stroking her face with his thumb. “People say you’re ruthless, you know,” she whispered, looking into the blue green eyes that haunted her when he wasn’t around.

“They’re right,” he replied.

“Is that why I’m still alive?” She teased, voice still soft.

“Would you like to see ruthlessness, Ayva?”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted her off her feet, throwing her over his shoulder with ease. She giggled.

“There is no giggling under interrogation,” he said seriously as he walked across the room to drop her onto the bed.

“I won’t tell you _anything,”_ she promised, leaning up on her elbows from her position on the bed.

He raised an eyebrow. “You will tell me _everything_ I want to know, or you will suffer my wrath.”

“Enlighten me, _General,_ what do you want to know?”

His eyes darkened at her use of the word General, a call back to their first few encounters in which, she was certain, she shared a similar attraction they didn’t know what to do with.

“You never told me your name,” he reminded her.

“And I never shall!” She promised as he shrugged out of his great coat. His face was utterly serious, and she wondered what it said about her that she was so turned on by it, by the promise of reliving, in some respects, their first ever meeting, though she was well aware there would be no pain this time.

“We’ll see,” he practically whispered, dressed in nothing but his pants. She barely had time to admire him, lean and softly muscled, his skin pale against the black of his pants. He hit the lights before joining her on the bed, his body covering hers, lips inches from her own.

“Tell me your name,” he whispered, his breath hot against her face.

“Never,” she whispered back, her entire body on edge.

“Wrong answer.” He was kissing her before she could reply, with a fierceness that threatened to end their game before it had even begun. She hoped he had a plan, because all she had was the overwhelming desire to have him inside her and she wanted it _now._ Her skin was on fire, still trapped in the lace and soft silk of her dress; every brush of fabric made her need sharper.

She wasn’t the only one barely keeping it together. Pressed together, she could feel the hardness of his erection pressed against her thigh. She fumbled between them, reaching for the button of his pants, but doing _anything_ was difficult with his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her body.

He caught her wrist before she could touch him, yanking them above her head. “Now who is torturing who?” He asked breathlessly, his hair touching her forehead.

“Why don’t _you_ tell me _your name?”_ She shot back as he dragged her upwards, groaning slightly as their mouths collided again. She was in his lap, situated perfectly to slide down on him, if it weren’t for his pants in the way. They were kissing again, hard enough she knew her lips would be swollen in the morning. She bit at his bottom lip as his hand slid under the hem of her dress, pooled around them, and up the side of her thigh. He stopped when he reached her ass, breaking the kiss to ask, “There’s nothing beneath this?”

“Why waste time?” She replied, capturing her lips with her own again. He groaned into. Her mouth, rouching the fabric into his hands and yanking it over her head. She felt frantic, breaking away to help him get it off; she heard the loud rip of fabric, the result of the two of them trying to get it over her head without treating it delicately. She didn’t care, grateful to be rid of it, as she tossed it off the bed into the darkness. She was utterly naked now much to her delight. He paused, hand on her throat, his other trailing down her chest gently, stopping just below her stomach.

She took advantage of his lapse in attention to reach for his pants again, but he wasn’t having it. Too fast to comprehend, he had her on her back again.

“I’m in charge here,” he growled.

“Do your worst,” she breathed, arching her back slightly as his mouth trailed down her neck, his hands already cupping both breasts, rubbing against her achingly hard nipples softly. He was breathing hard against her skin and it gave her pleasure knowing he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. He took the peak of each breast into his mouth, nipping and sucking softly while she could do nothing but writhe beneath him, desperate for any kind of relief. It seemed, when he said torture, he meant to drag this out for as long as he could stand it.

“Please,” she gasped, her grip on reality tenuous at best. “Armitage-“

“Shh,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

She sighed as his mouth burned downward, freezing when his mouth pressed against the crease between her thigh and her hips. He lifted her legs, resting them against his shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut, half terrified, half excited; she had never felt so exposed as she did in that moment, though the darkness offered her some cover.

She expected him to keep up the ruse of their game, to ask her something, but he didn’t. He lowered his mouth, dragging his tongue softly against her clit. And it was like the world around her exploded. She gasped loudly, grabbing for his hair. She could feel him smile against her skin but for Ayva, the game was over, and he had won.

He licked like he did everything else in his life, with a methodical determination of a man who did everything precisely, in order to maximize his results. She was vaguely aware he’d slid one of his fingers into her body when she felt the walls of her pussy squeeze hard around something, but nothing around her existed anymore, just him. She canted her hips in rhythm with his hand, pressure and pleasure building hotly in her stomach. He kept pace, his tongue moving in faster circles and his hand thrusting in time, though the sensations blurred together until she was nearly there. She wanted to tell him, but the words got lost in her throat. The only noise that escaped her lips were soft, high-pitched moans. She pulled at his hair hard moments before she heard herself scream, a sound that existed outside of her control. Her vision was brilliant white stars as her entire body clenched tightly, riding out the wave of her orgasm.

He was overtop her in a moment, clearly just as undone. “Say it,” he demanded hoarsely, forehead pressed against hers. She could feel him sliding out of his pants gracelessly as she breathed hard beneath him.

“My name?” She asked. “It’s Ayva-“

“No,” he interrupted, the head of his cock pressed against her wet core. “Tell me I’m the love of your life again.”

She would have laughed if it weren’t so serious. She hadn’t even registered what it meant to say it, in the moment. It had been an off-hand comment, and she realized, as he kissed her, that it had the words had meant something to him.

“You’re the love of my life,” she whispered honestly, cupping his cheek with her hand.

He slid into her without another word, exhaling with relief at the contact. She kissed him again, hard, slightly intoxicated by the taste of her against his lips.

“You’re so _wet,”_ he muttered, thrusting hard into her, his arms wrapped against her shoulders so they were pressed hard against each other, as close as they could physically get. She buried her head into his shoulder, every part of her achingly sensitive, her emotions strangely raw.

She wasn’t sure if he was aware at how his body was rubbing against hers just _right,_ but she was building back into orgasm again even as Armitage seemed to be losing what little control he had left. His fingers were digging into her hips, keeping the two of them in sync, as her own hands gripped into his biceps, her teeth sinking into his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” she begged as he groaned against her cheek.

“Come for me,” he ordered breathlessly. She nodded as he kissed her messily, thrusting so hard into her she couldn’t think straight.

“Please,” she murmured, kissing him again just as she fell off the ledge for a second time, the walls of her body fluttering hard around him.

“Fuck,” he half cried, slamming into her hard before he fell apart around her, jerking slightly before he buried himself inside her as far as he could seemingly get, every muscle in his body shaking with relief.

He collapsed, still inside her. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mirror of her own she was sure. She kissed the side of his neck, pulling her arms out from beneath his body to wrap them around him in a soft hug. He grunted, unsheathing himself to roll off her. She felt a strange sense of loss, just for a moment, until he reached for her, pulling her into the side of his body.

She wanted to talk to him, but exhaustion rolled over her like a wave, keeping her eyes closed. She nestled her head into the crook of his arm as he yanked blankets up over their bodies.

She sighed when his lips pressed against her forehead, but if he said anything to her, she never knew.


	20. Star A Riot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm updating a day late! I have been sick and I forgot that yesterday was Monday. Honestly, without class to remind me what's happening and where I should be, EVERYTHING is just Sunday. I couldn't tell you my own name and I can barely spell anymore.
> 
> Anyway, if you notice any GLARING errors in this, please know that I have a fever and this is all a dream to me.

_I will march down an empty street like a ship into the storm_

_No surrender, no retreat_

_I will tear down every wall_

_Just to keep you warm; just to bring you home_

_I will burn this city down for a diamond in the dust_

_I will keep you safe and sound when there's no one left to trust_

_Will you take my hand?_

\--

\---

\--

They'd finally come to the part Baume wanted to know the most about, though to her credit, Ayva was incredibly tight lipped. When asked to describe who attacked first, Ayva couldn't deny it was Hynestia, just like she couldn't deny the departure of the ruling class, leaving the lower classes to fend off the First Order for themselves. It was a scathing condemnation and confirmed to him that the idealistic women he'd first met on Naboo was sharper, harder, shaped by an unrelenting and forgiving war. Shaped, in no small part, by him. He shouldn't have felt pride, not anymore, but in a small way, he did. Had she retained any of that youthful optimism, it would have been more difficult to allow Hynestia to share in any of the blame. 

It wasn't _just_ Hynestia that Ayva was interested in reading the riot act. Szábo, a man with cerulean skin, looked positively green as Ayva reminded the room that the New Republic had known all too well what was coming for Hynestia and, in some ways, encouraged it by sending a only one Senator with known corporate ties and an inability to do anything that might have prevented the outcome. He wondered if she would downplay her own part in the coming act. He hoped she might; Szábo was looking for _any_ reason to end the trial right then and there and brand her nothing more than a traitor.

It would be a tough sell, all things consider. Outside of having a face that seemed born to be projected through the holonet, Ayva had spent half a year methodically dismantling her fathers empire and redistributing his wealth as a means to help more worlds fight the First Order before joining the final battle against the Final Order. Still, Armitage Hux was a shrewd man who understood the politics of what was happening better than most; to accept the account given meant that fundamental failure existed at the highest levels and that, at any moment, the New Republic could have done more to prevent the coming days and had chosen, instead, to enrich themselves at the expense of the populations they had been elected to serve.

Ayva, of course, understood that now. Reflected blue in the holo, he could imagine her green eyes filled with steel as she looked back at Szábo, a legislative aid in those days, though a Senator now. He'd escaped the cataclysm and wanted to get back to business as usual. Hux could see that Ayva had no intention of letting that happen, staring in the past, on Hynestia.

"Why would Hynestia attack the First Order?" Szábo demanded.

"How could I possibly know the answer to that?" Ayva shot back, visibly losing her cool. 

"Of course, my apologies. You were sent as a distraction. Please, inform the court: did you manage to get General Armitage Hux out of the city?" Szábo's words were ice. Ayva straightend, tossing a blonde curl over her shoulder with all the haughtiness that came from a wealthy, Corustant-born woman. Armitage knew what she'd say, because he had been there, and he knew the truth.

\--

\---

\--

He woke well before her, though that had always been the plan. For a moment, he just held her, overwhelmed by his stunning good fortune and the night they’d spent together. There was a small part of him that didn’t want to go through with his plan anymore, that wanted to run off with her regardless of the consequences. She’d offered him so much information, last night, that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She’d admitted she _loved_ him; a confession so stunning that he still didn’t know what to do with it. It had been so nonchalant that he might have mistaken it as an off-handed comment were it not preceded by her own admission of jealousy, watching him dance with another woman.

He could have what he wanted, he was sure of it, and he could have it _all,_ if everything went exactly right and he managed to get her out of the city without incident. It was that idea, the promise of having both the woman he loved and the job he cared about, that forced him out of her warm bed. He dressed quickly, cognizant of the fact that he needed to be back in her bedroom by the time she woke up so he could get her out of the city. He found Peavey waiting, looking anxious.

“Everything is in place, sir.”

Hux nodded, looking around the small room Peavey had spent the last few days in. “You know the plan. Stay out of sight.”

“Sir, Mitaka sent a report regarding the Hynestian ships. They’ve amassed a fleet just outside the city, with troops pouring in from across the planet.”

He suppressed a smile. “They can’t help themselves. Give the order to deploy the fleet into hyperspace. We’ll meet them when they attack.”

“We will lose some soldiers, sir.”

Armitage waved his hand without concern. In the scheme of things, collateral damage. He turned to leave when Peavey’s voice stopped him.

“And the Resistance girl, sir? How would you like to proceed?”  
He glanced over his shoulder before opening the door. “I will handle the Resistance.”

By the time he got back to her, she was dressed like the Ayva he was so accustomed to. She was holding her batons, dressed in all black, her outfit modified for the weather so none of her usual skin was showing. Her blaster was secured to her hip and her bag was packed. It would be difficult to convince her to leave the city with him if she was planning to leave _now._

When she saw him, she hesitated for a moment, biting her bottom lip. His stomach sank. She _was_ planning to leave, and from the looks of it, she was going to leave without a word. That hurt, he thought, his stomach twisting into knives.

“Leaving?” He asked her, brow furrowed.

“I think Rinetta has made her position clear,” she replied carefully. Her expression betrayed some of her own hesitation, giving him hope. If she didn’t want to go, perhaps she could be convinced to leave with him.

“Are you leaving _now?”_ He prodded, heart racing. _Say no._

She shook her head no, to his relief.

“Good. I would like to show you something, if you’ll let me?”

She nodded her head yes, green eyes obviously troubled by something she couldn’t tell him. He was looking forward to a future without secrets between them. They were so close to it, mere hours away if everything worked out how he hoped.

She reached for her coat, moving past him to grab it. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her into his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked, kissing the top of her head with all the softness he could muster. “You look…sad.”

“I’m not sad,” she replied, squeezing around his ribcage.

“You’re lying,” he replied. “Would you like me to kill someone?”

She laughed softly, reassuring him if nothing else, _they_ were okay.

“Why is that always your solution?” She asked, pulling out of his embrace.

“Because it _works._ ”

“Where are we going?” She asked, zipping her coat before slinging her batons around her, the handles peeking above her shoulders.

“Not far,” he said with a soft smile. Just far enough to get her away from all the action, and, perhaps more selfishly, far from an escape route that didn’t actively involve him.

Walking next to her through the palace was an experience. Everyone who saw paused to look, though Armitage didn’t particularly care much about what they thought or what they saw. With any luck, most of them would be dead by the end of the day. At the official palace dock, Riyan and Marius were standing, clearly discussing something, their eyes unreadable.

“I hate that guy,” Hux muttered as they climbed onto speeders. She glanced at him, her leg swung over her own, face half hidden beneath her hood.

He took her out of the main part of the city, towards an outlying village. Leaving their speeders on the outskirts, they walked in together. Ayva had her hands jammed into her pockets in an attempt to warm them.  
“Gloves would-“  
“What are we doing here?” She interrupted, clearly not in the mood for a little good-natured ribbing. She was obviously on edge.

“Hynestia is _never_ going to join the New Republic, and you need to understand why.”

“Armitage, if this is a-“

“Just hear me out, Ayva.”

Unlike the city they’d just left, the surrounding village was clearly poor. “Not everyone here can afford heat,” he told her as she watched several people huddled under warm jackets sitting on dilapidated wooden porches.

“If you’re trying to show me inequality, you forget where I grew up. Coruscant has no shortage of-“

“Coruscant is open about its economic conditions,” Armitage interrupted her impatiently. “Keep walking, to the factory.”

To get to the factory, they had to walk through the village. The village itself was rows and rows of houses crammed along one street, and though she’d attempted to explain that Coruscant had inequality, he would have bet his life she’d never actually witnessed any of it. He’d been inside of Varus Bardak’s home, tucked far above any glimmer of poverty. He could tell by the expression on her face that she’d never seen _anything_ that looked like this.

It felt strange to him, to see what amounted to shacks all stacked on top of each other in place with so much open space. He couldn’t tell if the design choice was intentional, or if the populace had done it in an effort to conserve building materials. He was willing to guess it was the latter.

The factory was newer than the houses that surrounded it, made of shiny durasteel that reflected the bright sunlight back into the environment.

“Gherlian fur,” he told her once they’d walked inside. “Incredibly cheap to make and even easier to produce. You could do it with just automation, but Hynestia, like many other planets, prefers to use organic labor.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” She asked, following him up a flight of sturdy metal stairs. “And should we even be here?”

The sound of the whirring machinery was almost deafening, even high above the factory. Below, they could see the production floor where people of all ages imaginable were crammed together. It was punishingly warm, even in consideration to the cold outside. Even Armitage, truly neutral in his argument, found it appalling at how quickly the conveyer belts moved and how young some of the people working seemed to be. He’d seen it all before, hundreds of times, on any number of planets. If no one was willing to protect the poorest and profits were king, costs were cut exactly like they were witnessing now. From the corner of his eye, he could see her horror, her attention laser-focused on the children.

“Lots of planets won’t ratify the labor protections the New Republic passed,” she told him in what he guessed was her attempt to distance herself from what she was seeing, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

“Sure,” he agreed. “How many of those planets have the GDP of Corellia and and Chandrila combined? If production pace continues, and costs continue trending upward, Hynestia will rival the entire sector for wealth.”

“That’s not true,” she argued. “Hynestia is a mid-level planet where wealth is concerned, more on par with Naboo than Chandrila.”

“A loophole in the tax code, and their resistance to registering with the New Republic, lets them underreport their profits,” he replied, turning his back to the production line to walk back down the stairs they’d just come up.

“How could _you_ possibly know that?” She demanded, following him back into the cold.

“Because I make it my job to know the dirty little secrets of the planets I’m visiting. I’m not bound to the same rules you are, either. I didn’t come here to play carefully worded games with Rinetta or ask politely. Do you really believe anyone would care about this frozen ball of ice if it weren’t obscenely wealthy? Opening up their shipping lanes to the Galaxy at large, taxed by the New Republic, is an _incredibly_ lucrative source of revenue.”

“So what?” She asked, her tone angry.

“ _So what?_ You’re about to be swept up into a conflict you don’t belong in, and never did!”

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“You’re so resistant to any idea that contradicts your worldview, that democracy is the only way forward. Look at how they’ve taken advantage of you, _used_ you as a pawn! Riyan didn’t come here to help you, he came here to enrich the already wealthy core planets, who stand to benefit the most with this new shipping lane!”

“And you suddenly care about the welfare of the people in the Galaxy?”

He sighed with exasperation. “I told you, back on Tion, that this was not a system for the general people. It is a system for the wealthy, that is ruled by the wealthy, and benefits the wealthy at the expense of the rest of the Galaxy. I want _order,_ I want _structure,_ and more importantly, I want a system that prioritizes standardization, to prevent things like this, rampant poverty surrounded by so much luxury.”

“The people have a right to choose how they live, even if you don’t like it!”

“The people are never able to truly choose when the options available to them continue to be unbridled corruption dressed up in the language of freedom! Look around you Ayva! Does this look like the will of the people? Do you think they chose these conditions freely?”

“And you suppose you could do better, a military _junta_ that often enslaves entirely worlds to deprive them of their resources?” She challenged as his heart raced. Had he misjudged her? Was she so willing to defend freedom even if it only benefited people like her father?

“It wouldn’t have to be that way if the New Republic did its job effectively!”

“Even the _Empire_ reduced entire planets to slaves!”

“Planets that resisted! Planets more in love with the freedom to drive themselves into ruin than-“

An explosion behind them shut them both up. He grabbed her before either of them could catch up with the noise, pulling her hard against his body, blaster aimed over her shoulder. She grabbed hers as well, eyes huge as she looked at the bloom of fire and smoke erupt in the distance. It was all right on schedule, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Where had they landed?

Nowhere, he thought with irritation, watching a third speeder bike roar up with a face he’d hoped to never see again. She pulled herself from his embrace, utterly fixed on the destruction behind them, her blaster hanging at her side as he re-aimed his own. He could kill the Senator before he ever got off his bike.

Killing Riyan would do him no favors, he thought with irritation. He snarled with frustration, knowing that by the time he was back in his bed, on his destroyer, he’d have another blaster wound to attend to and she’d be long gone, vanishing onto whatever planet the Resistance was hiding on. Nothing was going the way he planned.

“I _knew_ something was off about the two of you,” Riyan accused, eyes blazing as he strode up, blaster aimed directly at Hux’s chest. From behind him, he heard the crunch of her boots on ice.

“Put the blaster down,” she told Riyan, coming into his periphery. Her blaster was still in her hand, still hanging at her side, though he saw her finger was already on the trigger. He relaxed his grip on his own just slightly. Maybe, he thought with some hope, he would avoid being shot today.

“Are you _helping_ him?!” Riyan demanded, blaster still focused on Hux.

“Of course I’m not helping him!” She retorted, as if the idea were absurd. Was it, though?

“What is all this then?!” Riyan accused, swinging his blaster around wildly. Hux saw Ayva flinch slightly, though her defensive stance remained unchanged. If Ayva was shot, he would destroy the entire planet in retribution, he thought darkly.

“If you’re not with him, kill him!” Riyan continued, unaware of the position he’d inadvertently put her in. He expected Ayva to aim, to shoot him in the leg, or the arm and abscond with the Senator, keeping her cover. He couldn’t be angry with her about that; it wasn’t like he didn’t know where her loyalties lay.

“Are you helping my father?” She asked Riyan suddenly, catching both men off guard.

“What?!”

“Are you _helping_ my _father?”_ He’d never heard her sound so dangerous before. The future he’d been imagining, with her at his side, took a newer, darker shape.

Hux laughed out loud, though the sound matched her tone more than it betrayed any kind of humor.

“Tell her about your new bill,” he prompted Riyan. “Tell her who sponsored it.”

“He’s in your head,” Riyan snarled and Hux saw resolution settle in her eyes. Whatever she’d been struggling with was decided.

“You can shoot me, if you need to,” Hux told her softly, aware Riyan could hear her. It was manipulative and on some level, he felt a little bad for doing it but he was tired of Riyan and seconds away from finishing the man off himself. “I won’t be angry.

“I know you won’t,” she murmured, turning her head to look at him.

“If you won’t-“ Riyan never got to finish his sentence. Hux watched Ayva raise her arm without ever looking at the Senator and fire, her shot landing dead in his chest. Riyan looked surprised for a millisecond before his expression faded to nothing. His knees hit the ice with a thud before he landed face first, dead, in the frozen tundra.

Ayva exhaled, closing her eyes for a second as if she needed a minute to process what had just happened. He could see her hands were trembling and, quickly, he closed the gap between them, holstering his blaster so he could take her own from her before she accidentally hurt one of them.

“He would have killed you,” she said when his gloved hands covered her own. “I did what I had to do.”

“I know you did,” he told her, his hands on her shoulders.

“I killed a Senator,” she said, looking up at him with horrified eyes. “I have to-“

“Ayva, no!” He tightened his grip on her body, aware they were running out of time. “There’s no way off this planet for you. Not without me.”

“I can’t…Armitage…”

“You _can,”_ he urged. “I can shield you from the Resistance…from the First Order, from your father, from _anything_ you fear right now.”  
“Armitage, you _are_ the First Order.”

He took her hand, aware that his shuttle was approaching. She could see it, too. “I have a home on Arkanis, you’ll go there until-“

“They’ll want to know why you’re hiding a Resistance soldier, Armitage, they’ll _hurt-“_

“They won’t,” he interrupted her panic with a fierceness blazing in his stomach. “No one can hurt Ayva, not anymore, and especially not now.”

“But-“  
“I,” he began, adopting her dangerous tone from before, his heart hammering in his chest. “Will hear _no questions_ about my wife.”

“It was a joke,” she whispered, lips parted slightly. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Yes, Ayva, I have. I lost it the second you vanished with my data pad to Naboo and I haven’t been right since. How long can we do this for, dancing around, meeting unexpectedly and hoping enough time has passed that we’ve grown to hate each other when in fact it’s the opposite? You’re in my bones, now, and I don’t want to live like that anymore, wondering if you’re safe, if you’re happy. I want to know where you are at night, I want to call you and tell you what I’m thinking, I want to see your face and only your face every day for the rest of my life until I die and I’m tired of pretending I don’t _love you.”_

Her expression was unreadable. Behind them, the shuttle landed, and her time was up.

“Please, Ayva,” he begged as he heard the ramp descend to the ground behind them. “Come with me.”

He held out his hand as she took a step backwards, her fingers reaching for her blaster.

“Don’t do this Ayva,” he pressed, watching her take another step away from him. “I’ll find you, there’s no where to hide.”

She aimed her blaster at him, provoking a snarl of exasperation to rip through his throat. It was a meaningless gesture, given her willingness to kill others for his perceived safety.

“I _love you,_ ” she told him, green eyes guarded. “But I can’t _join_ you.”

“There is no escape off this planet for you!” He yelled as she reached the speeder bike. “You’re not leaving without me!”

He saw defiance flash in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Legs swung over the bike and he _could_ have shot her, too, if he’d wanted to. There was a gap in time, between her lowering her own weapon and taking off that he could have hit her, in the shoulder or leg.

He waited until his Lieutenant, a young man named Ash, joined him at his side, watching her vanish into the distance.

“Sir?” Ash asked.

“Bring me Ayva Bardak of the Resistance. _Alive.”_


	21. Wait For Me

_The promise of safe return undelivered_

_The ocean is wider than I first guessed_

_When roads disappeared, I followed the rivers but somehow got in over my head_

_So deep I felt taken_

_Wait for me now_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

You could have heard a pin drop at the confession. She didn't know what was more stunning to people, the admission she'd killed a Republic Senator sent to her help her, or the offer of marriage she refused, when it seemed so obvious, so expected that she might expect. The galaxy, after all, knew how the story ended, but not how it began. Why not marry him, then? How could she tell him no after such thorough detail of how they'd fallen in love. In a strange, almost perverse way, she enjoyed subverting everyone's expectations this way.

Szàbo had the decency to keep his exasperation off his face, for once. "I assume you're going to _enlighten_ the court what, exactly, happened next to justify your hasty execution?"

"I'll talk for as long as you're willing to listen," she replied, her words just a little too smart.

"And why you told Armitage no?" Baume prodded. Szàbo shot her a look of utter loathing.

"Of course."

\--

\---

\--

Leave it to Hux to attempt to drag them both into hell. He was right, of course, that escape without him was unlikely, and yet Ayva couldn’t just _join_ him. She’d been stupid, naïve, trusting that they could keep up their little charade exactly as it was. _Of course_ he was plotting just like she was. It had been foolish to imagine he wasn’t. It was a mess she didn’t know how to get herself out of, one she could see ending in nothing but unmitigated disaster. Leia had promised she could go with him, but they’d never discussed _marrying_ the man and beyond that, Ayva was not a spy.

_You’re not a diplomat either…clearly._

She needed guidance before she made another move, before she did something she truly could not walk back. She should never have come at all, too late, she realized. She’d let her personal feelings get in the way and now she was in true trouble, tugged between the man she loved and the cause she believed in.

Was it stupid to circle around and go straight back to the castle? Yes. Had anyone ever accused Ayva of being smart? No. To that end, she’d made Rinetta a promise and she intended to keep it. As she flew in, dumping her bike outside the castle to sneak back in through what amounted to a trap door build into the snow, she watched several shuttles zip away, taking Hynestia’s ruling families with them. The fate of the planet rested in the hands of Marius, and, to some degree, her.

She might not be leaving this place without Armitage Hux, but that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy for him. If he wanted a Resistance wife, he would get her, and everything that came with it.

She made her way down abandoned halls, descending deep into the bowels of the castle where an untold number of servants likely worked, though they were gone in the wake of the carnage happening around them. The further down she went, the heavier the smell of sulfur hung in the air. Still, she kept going, assuming that eventually she’d find her way up. As she moved, she hit a distress call, hoping that though Leia had told her she was on her own, it was a hypothetical on her own.

She was heading back up when she heard Poe’s voice blaring through her comm.

“Ayva?! What’s going on?”  
“I need an extraction!” She told him hastily, half out of breath from running all these stairs. “My ship has been compromised.”

“Shit,” Poe swore. “I’m a couple hours out. Can you hold out that long?”  
“Maybe,” she replied, peering through the window of a door. It was an empty kitchen. She pushed it open, the air warmer there than it had been in the stairs. She hoped that meant she was closer to the surface. “I don’t know how well Hynestia is defending itself from the First Order.”

“Is there a clear way out?”

“I could marry General Hux and leave with him,” Ayva told Poe honestly.

“Be _serious,_ where can I slip in?”

“Further north,” she said. “I could _probably_ last long enough up there, if it’s _just_ a few hours.”

“I’m rerouting now. Keep yourself safe, Ayves, I’ll be coming in hot.”

“Don’t try it if there’s too much risk,” she warned.

“I’m not abandoning you to the First Order again!” He snapped.

“You will to keep us from _both_ being captured! Think about what you know, Poe!”

“Just get to the rendezvous point, Ayves. Leave the rest to me.”

It was only a _little_ reassuring, she thought, finally making her way into familiar halls. Acrid smoke hung heavy in the air, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear screaming. She moved, running as fast as her feet would carry her, down twisting hallways that she had walked just the night before, nearly hand in hand with the man orchestrating the violence she was witnessing now. She wondered, with more than a little anger, what was wrong with her. She’d been _so close_ to joining him, to turning her back on the Resistance and fully joining him. His argument was persuasive and, more to the point, she was in love with him.

It had been the star destroyers hanging above him in the planets atmosphere that brought her back to reality. For him to achieve peace, he needed fear first, and then brutal order second, before the galaxy could settle into structured, unyielding peace. Ayva was unwilling to help him achieve anything that way, even it meant going back to clandestine meetings on far flung planets to be alone.

She knew his vision wasn’t sustainable and she suspected he would come to know it, too. Though, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t disappointed that she’d told him no, at the offer to be his wife. She’d untangle that particular mess later, when she wasn’t standing in the room where so much had happened between them. It felt like a lifetime ago, though in reality it had just been mere hours.

She grabbed her bag, pulling her dresses out haphazardly until she found Rinetta’s box. She pried the lid open, grabbed the holocron, and jammed it into her coat pocket, ignoring how the cool material screamed into her skin, reverberating against her bones. A flash of yellow eyes slammed into her vision as a distant echo of a man’s scream filled the air around her.

A voice, dark and twisted, wrapped around her mind, speaking to her directly. _You cannot hide from me, child._

“Well, I’m going to try,” Ayva replied out loud as everything stopped for a moment, bringing with it a brutal ringing that filled her ears. If she made it out of this place alive, she’d get a pair of gloves like Hux kept suggesting.

She was back in the halls, running towards the destruction, blaster in hand. She veered down a hall before stormtroopers could see her, back towards the kitchen so she could make her way back to her speeder bike and the freezing, empty tundra, deep in high, hidden mountains, where she would hopefully not die of the cold and be rescued by Poe.

A hope that seemed almost impossible to achieve. Despite layers of fabric, the holocron burned into the flesh of her skin, slowing her down as she attempted to adjust her coat without physically touching it again.

Cold air hit her face when a man with a soft, round face and dark hair peeking through the hood of his coat met her with the end of his blaster.

“Ayva Bardak?” He asked, as though he wasn’t sure.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“I have orders to bring you in.”

She laughed without humor, endlessly. So Armitage was willing to risk it all on her, was he? She wondered, for a moment, how he might explain his own part in their little romance.

She reached behind her, quick as a whip, pulling out her baton to smash it against his hand, sending the blaster flying to the ground with a sick crack.

“I’m sure you do,” she continued, watching his eyes lock on the baton, hand cradled against h is chest. “I’m willing to bet you don’t want to _die_ -“

The feeling of cold durasteel against the back of her head stopped her from finishing her thought.

“Put down the baton, Ayva,” Hux told her, his voice half snarl. With a flourish, she dropped into the ground.

“You won’t shoot me,” she said.

“Let’s not explore what I might be willing to do,” he retorted, the muzzle travelling down her coat as she bent to pick up her baton. His attention diverted, she reached for her second baton before kicking the blaster out of his hand. He looked more irritated than truly angry. He dodged her first blow easily, blocking her second with both hands around the handle of her baton.

“There’s no way off this rock without me, Ayva,” he told her as she swung again with brutal force, the ringing of metal against metal screaming around them. He seemed unaffected, as though this was an everyday occurrence for him. “What’s your plan?”

“I can’t join you,” she said through gritted teeth, catching him off guard with a well-aimed kick. She swung her baton down again, satisfied when she heard him grunt from the effort of holding her off. “You _know_ I can’t.”  
“I think you _can!”_ He yelled back, scrambling off his knees, blocking another blow with more difficulty. “That’s why you’re so angry, that’s why-“  
The scream that escaped her lips was primal, partly because he was right and she _did_ want to join him. The urge was born from a selfish, tired place that just wanted things to be easy. She raised her hand, aware that this next blow would bring him to his knees again and she’d have her escape.

“ASH!” Hux snarled before her blow could land. She didn’t have time to respond; white hot electricity erupted through her body, bringing with it total paralysis and then, darkness.

Ayva jerked awake on a cold floor. For one, confused moment, she thought she’d hallucinated everything that had happened in the last several months and she’d never actually left the star destroyer. Gingerly, she sat up, her body screaming from effort. She unzipped her coat, throwing it onto a familiar bench with little care. She lifted up her shirt and lowered the waistband of her pants slightly to see a square shaped burn staring back at her.

The door hissed open and Lieutenant Ash entered, watching with an interested expression as she righted her clothing and clambered to her feet.  
“Round two?” She asked him.

“General Hux has questions for you,” Ash told her seriously, motioning for her to follow him. Flanked by troopers, he held out stun cuffs. She reluctantly offered him her wrists, recoiling against the feeling of electricity on her raw skin again.

“I’m sure he knows how _that_ ends,” she muttered, following Ash through familiar surroundings, dread pitting in her stomach.

“Just tell him what he wants to know,” Ash suggested. Ayva shot him a sideways glance but didn’t respond, practicing for the silence she knew would come next.

On the bridge, more dread as Ash marched her forward, towards both Hux and a masked, black clad figure Ayva recognized almost viscerally. Kylo Ren, massively tall, watched her as Hux stared out the window, hands behind his back, legs spread just slightly apart. A skeleton crew operated the bridge, eyes adverted to their stations, creating an atmosphere of tension that made her skin crawl.

“Ayva Bardak,” Kylo’s deep, modulated voice stated, his tone empty. “Welcome back.”

She expected to see the vast expanse of space, but found they were still hovering over Hynestia, staring down at the capitol. Ash left her there without a word, though he had the courtesy to remove the cuffs around her wrists. She supposed no one worried about an attempted attack of escape with Kylo Ren so near.

“Hynestia has surrendered,” Kylo told her without emotion, turning his attention to the small buildings dotted beneath them. “The people request mercy.”

“So give it to them,” Ayva retorted, heart pounding in her chest. Next to her, Armitage’s hand shot out to grip her upper arm, his fingers tight against her skin. She turned her head slightly to look over at him, but he kept his gaze firmly on the glass in front of them.

“I have orders to destroy it,” Ren continued, as though she’d said nothing at all.

“They _surrendered!”_ She turned her head between the two men, outrage pulsing against her fear. Armitage squeezed against her arm, a warning.

Kylo turned his attention back to her. “Tell me where the Resistance is hiding, and I’ll spare them.”

She thought she might be sick. She looked from the helmeted man in front of her back to the city below her. It was an unfair, impossible choice, one she knew she couldn’t get out of. If she refused to tell him, he’d pry it out of her mind anyway, and still destroy the city. There was also no guarantee he’d uphold his promise to spare them.

Armitage turned his head to look at her and she saw fear looking back at her.

“I grow impatient with your silence,” Kylo warned, voice rising with anger. “Tell me where the Resistance is hiding!”

She shrank back slightly, her body slamming into Armitage’s, his hand still a vice around her arm.

“Mirren Prime,” she said, weighing her options quickly and coming to a decision. “They’re on Mirren Prime.”  
“Destroy it,” Ren told the crew, stepping away from her with a flourish. She jerked forward, outraged, stopped by Armitage grabbing both arms and holding her tightly against his body.

“You _promised!”_ She screamed against Kylo’s retreating back.

“He has to,” Armitage whispered into her ear, pinning her arms behind her back so it looked as though he was just restraining her. “He has no choice…and you’re _lying.”_

She turned her neck to watch the city below her erupt in flame. She watched for as long as she could stomach it, urged on by the feeling that this was her fault.

“If I had been honest…” She whispered, turning her head as Hux began to march her away from the window.

“Snoke decided the fate of the city before we ever stepped foot inside it,” he murmured back.

“How can you _stand it?”_ She demanded, a tear spilling down her cheek.

“I had other considerations,” he replied. They walked silently that way, him holding one of her arms, her following next to him, wondering if he’d sacrificed an entire city for her. When he had her back in her cell, he closed them both in.

“Ayva,” he began, clearly stressed from the situation they were in. “I’m am going to have to order your death.”

She stared blankly back at him. “Let me go.”

“I can’t…I…I am attempting to spare your life.”

“Maybe you should just give the order,” she said with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bench.

“I will do no such thing. Tell me where the Resistance is truly hiding and I-“  
“I’m not going to tell you,” she told him with a bone deep weariness.

“This is the hill you’re going to die on?” He demanded; his tone angrier than she’d ever heard. “Hiding the Resistance, when they’ll be found _eventually?_ Your life is worth that?”

“I told you, they’re on Mirren-“

“We both know they’re not!” He exploded.

She shrugged. “I don’t think we _both_ know that.”  
“Ayva, I asked you to be my wife, on Hynestia, and you never gave me an answer.” He was on his knees in front of her, taking her hands. “I can get you out of this…keep you safe. _Alive._ Just give me something to work with.”

“I’ll give you Mirren Prime,” she replied, watching his face reflect back open despair at the words. “And one other thing, if you _swear_ you’ll never ask me about this again. Swear it, and I’ll go where you tell me to go and do what you ask me to do.”

“Ayva…”

“Swear, Armitage.”

“Fine. I swear it.”

She knew it was desperation that motivated him to agree to her terms without knowing what exactly she was giving him in return, and it filled her with relief that he trusted her enough to go along blindly. It gave her hope that there was still a way out for them both. She reached for her coat and handed it to him.

“In the pocket,” she said, unwilling to touch the holocron again. He took it from her, digging into the pocket with skepticism written all over his face. She watched that change into shock, then fear as he held the small square in his hand.

“Where did you get this?” He whispered, looking up at her.

“The Resistance is on Mirren Prime,” she repeated. “Should they escape before you arrive, because I contacted Poe before you captured me, this might ease any concerns anyone was about my newfound loyalty.”

He stared back at her for a long moment. “What am I going to find on Mirren Prime, Ayva?”

She leaned back against the cold wall of the cell, closing her eyes. “A Resistance base.”

“Give me your data pad.”

She handed it to him without question, well aware he would find exactly what she said he’d find. He swore softly.   
“You can’t have it all,” she told him, eyes burning. “You know who I am.”

“Swear _you’ll_ walk away from it,” he retorted, eyes flashing.

“For you? Anything.”

They both knew it was a lie. There was no getting her out of this.


	22. Run, Run, Rebel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter.

_Trouble trickles down, secrets screaming out_

_It's buried in the ground_

_It's meant to come out_

_Venom in your veins always finds away_

_It's the price you pay when you pay with the pain_

_Run, run rebel_

_Running with devil_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

"Could the cataclysm on Hynestia have been prevented?" Baume asked, taking a break from the endless prying into Ayva's personal life to ask a relevant question. Even Szàbo seemed surprised.

Ayva shook her head. "Snoke held all the strings...it was impossible to resist him." 

"You believe there were no choices, when it came to disobeying orders of mass destruction?" Szàbo challenged. He clearly disagreed with that assessment.

"I think Ben Solo was manipulated by the voices in his head long before he ever came to join the First Order," Ayva shot back, well aware that this would not be a popular statement among the galactic citizens. "And I know what it's like to stand in Snoke's presence and attempt to tell him no."

"Are Kylo Ren and Ben Solo not the same person?" Szàbo shot back.

"I don't know enough about the force to answer that, but I know Ben Solo and I knew Kylo Ren and I don't believe they are the same person."

She hoped the rest of the galaxy could be persuaded to believe that.

\--

\---

\--

The door to her cell opened, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting for a decision on her ultimate fate. No one was coming for her, not here, and escape was impossible this go around. No one, except Kylo Ren, who stepped in, massive in the small space. She pressed her back against the wall of the bench she sat on, immediately terrified. If he was here instead of Hux, that could only mean Hux had failed and she was going to die.

“You’re scared, Ren commented, his modulated voice soft. “Good.”

She could feel no sympathy for him, despite what Hux had told her about having no choice. Everyone had a choice, especially someone as powerful and Ren. He didn’t need to be here unless he wanted to. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever fate he might have in store for her.

“I need you to accompany me to Coruscant,” he continued as her brain raced to keep up.

“Coruscant?” She asked dumbly.

“Were you not born there?” He asked without contempt, though she thought he sounded annoyed.

“Why would _I_ help _you?”_ She pressed, deciding it was better to treat him like she’d treated Hux, back when they met. He didn’t need to know anything about her. 

Ren paused, a statue in front of her, before he reached up and pulled off his helmet, cradling it beneath his arm. She didn’t know what she expected, though she supposed she’d never really expected anything at all. He was, for all she cared, a machine traipsing about in a dark tunic, unfeeling the way droids tended to be. In whatever she might have imagined lurked beneath the sinister helmet, the face of a young man would never have crossed her mind. Were it not for his brown eyes, watching her carefully, too closely for her to feel truly comforted, she might have relaxed a little.

“I know you know about our Supreme Leader,” Ren began, taking a heavy step forward. She stayed put, frozen in place, though she wished she’d take a step back, followed by several more, right out of her cell.

She shrugged. If he was like Leia in how he utilized the force, she assumed he could sense when she was lying. That didn’t mean she would make it easy on him and tell him whatever he wanted to know.

“You do,” Ren confirmed out loud with confidence. “No decision is made without his consent.”

“And he gave you approval to take me on a field trip? How generous,” she spat, unmotivated to help Ren out.

“Hux has…requested to spare you,” Ren continued, his words snarling over the word _spare._ “You gave him the holocron, so he claims…you can suddenly be _trusted.”_

“He said that?” She asked, biting back a bitter laugh. Was he really going to try and make the case she would turn? You didn’t need magical powers to know that was an absurd proposition. 

“Trusted enough to be left alive and remanded into his custody.”

Ah. He wasn’t asking for permission to make her a First Order soldier. He was asking for permission to marry her.

“So you will accompany me to Coruscant and I will make that determination.”

“How lucky for me,” she retorted, glaring up at the disconcerting face of Kylo Ren. She felt there was something almost familiar about him, though it was possible she was just trying to find any shred of humanity that might still exist lurking behind his dark eyes.

“Has Hux told you _anything_ about what it’s like to take a trip with me?”

Ren’s eyes glinted oddly, as though he remembered something he cherished.

“Me? No. I trust you will not make things difficult.”

“Why would you trust that?” She snapped as he lifted the helmet back to his face, vanishing beneath it. He cocked his head.

“Because it’s not just your life on the line.”

He swept out, leaving her to consider the implications of his words. She wasn’t alone long; Hux strolled in right behind him, every inch the man who’d first come in this cell so many months earlier, demanding she give him her name. Now she knew what his penis looked like. If her situation wasn’t so serious, she might have laughed at the comedy of it all.

He stared down at her as though he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, face unreadable. She waited, unwilling to say anything. It was almost a guarantee they were going to fight. She couldn’t ignore the fact that, just like Kylo Ren, Armitage had a choice, and he was choosing to be here, walking this path.

“You will accompany Ren to Coruscant,” Hux told her after a moment, words clipped. “You will do exactly as he says.”

“Will I?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed with clear exasperation. “Or you will _die.”_

“And if I don’t die, what then? You’ll let me go?”

“I will do whatever you ask me to,” He snarled with unexpected rage. “I will give you anything you ask. I am _begging you_ to complete this task without problem.”

“What if what I want is for you to _leave?”_

Their eyes met and for a moment she expected him to scream at her. His jaw was clenched, a muscle jumping in his cheek.

“And you?” He challenged, eyes blazing. “You plan to walk away?”

She jumped up, itching for a confrontation. “For you? _Anything.”_

It wasn’t what he expected; he’d flinched when she’d stood, as though bracing himself for violence. He stared, wide eyed, for a long beat.

“Anything?” He repeated. She knew that assertion, that she’d do anything for him, was immediately about to haunt her.

“Anything,” she agreed, stressing the point.

“Then you will do as I ask here.”

She turned her back, frustrated. “Why would I help Kylo Ren? He can’t be trusted.”

Hux didn’t seem to disagree the point. “Do you want to leave or not?”

Her heart fluttered at the ask. “For you? Anything.”

There was something strangely satisfying about walking through the halls of the Supremacy like she owned it. Hux had tried to prevent what was happening now when she dressed in his chambers, but if he wanted obedience he should have asked. Corusant wasn’t Hynestia, and going _anywhere_ with Kylo Ren wasn’t dancing with Jax Riyan, or Armitage Hux, for that matter. Ayva wanted range of motion, she wanted visible weaponry, and she wanted, at the same time, to remind him that she could do whatever the _kriff_ she wanted to.

She’d pulled out one of the dresses from the bag he’d rescued for her, a soft, long sleeved peach with ornately sewn blue flowers dotting the boddice before trailing sparsely down the skirt. She used a gold belt to cinch it at the waist where a blaster sat, useless against the likes of Ren but a threat for anyone else who might decide to try something.

Knives were hidden in her sleeves and another micro blaster was strapped to her thigh, accessed easily beneath the flowing skirt. It wasn’t enough, not for where she was being sent, and Ayva had no faith that Ren would stop anything from happening to her, should it come to that.

Hux flanked her down the hall, hands balled into fists at his sides as he presented her to Ren. Ren, for his part, didn’t acknowledge her change in appearance which she appreciated. “Know that if you fail me, I will assume you’ve done so on purpose,” Ren told her without preamble, keeping his back turned to her.

She kept her mouth shut, though she was glaring at his unmasked face. He’d changed too, dressed far nicer, though still in black, in preparation for Coruscant.

“You remember the layout?” Ren continued as Ayva sighed.

“How could I forget?”  
“Perhaps I should join-“

“No.” Ren’s voice was final. Hux didn’t look back at her when he strode out, leaving her alone with the still utterly terrifying Kylo Ren.

“Let’s go.”

They hurtled towards Coruscant in silence, both staring down at the control panel in front of them, lost in their own private thoughts. It wasn’t comfortable for her and she wondered if he noticed it at all, or he’d grown used to the fear of others. She looked up at the blinding light streaking around them, a meld of space and stars propelling them back to her first home. Back to Coruscant, to 500 Republica, to the Bardak’s. There was no chance she’d walk out of this unscathed.

“If you like,” Ren said suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I will look the other way.”

She turned her head to look at him, surprised he was speaking to her at all.

“Look the other way?” She asked, though she thought she understood what he meant.

“So you may enact your revenge.”

“How generous,” she replied dryly, resisting the urge to rub her eyes.

Ren was staring again, though this time directly at her. She couldn’t hold his gaze, so she went back to watching space, though he never stopped watching her. It made her uncomfortable to be scrutinized by Ren.

“You look like him,” Ren commented. Did he need to do this, she wondered?

“We’re related,” she snapped, hoping it would be enough to end whatever was happening here.

“He’s dangerous,” Ren continued, perhaps trying to convince her she should kill Varus Bardak.

“So am I,” Ayva retorted, looking back at Ren, still appraising her.

“So Hux claims. I notice _he_ still lives.”

“Lucky him.”

“Perhaps you’re not as lethal as you think you are.”

“Or perhaps he lives because I never wanted him dead.”

Ren’s lip curled upward with clear disgust. “Very few share your sentiments.”

She didn’t have a response for him and didn’t attempt to offer him one. Ren, it seemed, was done studying and went back to his thoughts, leaving Ayva to hers.

They wanted Bardak’s list of facilities, she assumed to organize a coup of his business though whatever their intentions were hardly mattered. She had two primary objectives that had led her to the co-pilots chair of Kylo Ren’s shuttle. She’d download Bardak’s files for the First Order, truly unconcerned about her actions on that front. She’d also plant the bug she’d been given for the Resistance, allowing them access to whatever plans the First Order _and_ Bardak might be working on.

Everything else would have to be spontaneous. She was certain Ren knew she hoped to vanish on Coruscant and would have known even without force powers. There was no point in concealing that desire, considering just how expected it was. She couldn’t plan it or make it seem like she’d organized it in any way. It kept him from intercepting her should the opportunity present itself

She couldn’t think about the promise she made Hux back on the Supremacy or the guilt she felt at leaving him to his fate. Neither of them was being honest anymore; there was as much chance he’d leave the First Order as there was that this mission went smoothly and without incident. She wasn’t stupid, though she wished she were. She wanted it to be true, to feel with absolute certainty he really would turn his back on it all for her.

They landed without fanfare, stepping out into the cool Coruscant night. The city was alive in a way that startled her for a moment; even Chandrilla’s sky didn’t look like this, teeming with life. The lights were only rivaled by the sound, of people talking, of screaming advertisements built into buildings, and the traffic of the airspace around them.

Ren’s hand clenched into a slow fist as he looked upward too, clearly bothered by the noise though he said nothing. She followed next to him, leading him towards 500 Republica. How often did he come here, she wondered? Ever? It struck her that perhaps he’d grown up here, too, and their discomfort came from a shared experience. She glanced up at him.

“What?” He asked, obviously irritated.

“You don’t like Coruscant?” She questioned, too afraid to ask him anything personal.

“No one likes Coruscant,” he replied easily, teeth gritted. “It ought to be eradicated from the galaxy.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to the task of navigating them, wondering why she bothered. No point humanizing someone so clearly devoid of humanity.

Though she’d decided she didn’t care about Ren or his backstory, it was obvious he’d grown up with privilege for at least part of his life. She stepped into Republic 500 prepared to walk him through the security to get into the wealthiest building in the galaxy. Having familiarity with it wasn’t the same as believing you belonged to it; the people here moved differently and though Ayva liked to think she’d cast it all aside, too much came rushing back like second nature. Her chin jutted; her spine straightened. Even the way she walked changed. Next to her, Ren made the same shift, no longer slumping his shoulders or openly scowling. He could have been handsome if she didn’t know him and what he was capable of.

They stepped into the turbo lift; the children of wealth come back to wreak absolute havoc. She wondered if his parents groomed him for this life or, if like her, this was his way of rebelling against impossible expectations and brutal, oppressive expectations.

“Chandrila,” he said when the lift doors closed, taking them upward to the last place in the galaxy she ever wanted to see again.

“Hm?” She asked, still lost in her own thoughts.  
“Your feelings betray you. I was raised on Chandrila, not Coruscant.”

A core world. How far he’d fallen, skulking about the Unknown Regions as an insurgent. He kept his face placid, all his anger gone, replaced by the training that came from never been allowed to feel the emotions you wanted to feel. She could almost understand it…though not enough to feel pity for him. He’d look at her with those same, expressionless eyes right before he killed her, and she considered it was possible he’d told her this because he had no intention to honor his agreement.

He stepped into her father’s apartment like a dark prince, striding part the droid taking invitations without concern. It was the Bardak annual gala, where anyone who was anyone gathered to drink, dance, and celebrate the accumulation of even more wealth, often at the expense of the galaxy’s poorest. It was distasteful in the best of circumstances but especially obscene given what she’d witnessed in the Hynestian factory.

“I will provide you with a distraction,” Ren told her, stopping with what seemed like hesitation outside a foyer in the marble hall. Ahead, double doors that led to the ballroom lay ahead, where the party was. “You will meet me here in no more than fifteen minutes.”

“The second he sees my face he’ll know—”

“It will be done, and his suspicions will no longer be my concern.”

“Great,” she replied, stalking away from Ren down a familiar hallway. If she followed it to its conclusion, she’d end up back in her childhood bedroom. There was a strange temptation to go and see what the room looked like now; had they repurposed it, erasing her existence from the Bardak family completely, or was it unchanged, a strange museum to a child that no longer lived.

She would never know. She opened Varus’s study instead, a room she’d never been allowed inside during her tenure. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stood beneath ambient lighting, looking around at her father’s most inner sanctum. In some ways, nothing about it surprised her; it was ordinary in its organization and contents, with a mahogany desk, two leather chairs, and a bookcase of tomes she was certain he hadn’t touched in decades.

Still, it was almost enchanting to be there, like she’d stepped into a world she’d always longed to be a part of, even if it was just her father’s world. She couldn’t help but walk the length of it, touching the shelves, the window, the chairs. It smelled like his spearmint chewing tobacco and the faintest scent of an outdated, musky cologne he wore. True to form, she found a lacy pair of women’s underwear stashed beneath the desk itself, a hot pink number she couldn’t picture her mother, a woman who cherished a neutral palate, would ever be caught in. Not that it truly mattered; her mother was dead now, gone of an unpreventable disease the year before. Had he been faithful before her death? Ayva didn’t know, and she never would. 

She hadn’t come to study the man who’d given her life, though she wanted to. The clock was ticking and unlike her proposed partner, a man she was certain would be nothing but faithful, given the chance, she was not a technological genius. It was far easier to plant the bug, hidden in her cleavage, just beneath the desk where it would live undetected. She brought it to life with no problem, aware that the Resistance would know she was here now. They’d be able to hear her.

She sat in Varus’s chair, taking out the disk Hux had given to her before they left. It would connect the pair of them, though not vocally. He’d been able to accept any file she sent to him, despite their physical separation.

“If you can hear me,” Ayva began, flipping quickly through the data pad, “I…”

Her voice trailed off. What _could_ she say that would make this okay? She’d killed a Republic senator; she wasn’t the hero of this story anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, finding several files she couldn’t decrypt. She just sent them along, deciding she’d just send him anything that looked promising. “I didn’t want it to turn out like this. I…this is my fault, being stuck here with the First Order.”

Someone took over for her, flipping through the contents of the datapad with a speed that made her head dizzy. Why not just start there, she wondered with annoyance? Clearly Armitage knew what he was looking for, slicing through several password protected applications before downloading them to himself. There was no way he needed as much as he took, but she supposed if he had the ability and the access, he didn’t see any reason not to.

“They’re downloading Bardak’s datapad contents,” she whispered, though it was just her in the office. “Kylo Ren is here…and I think someone might die.”

She didn’t mention that she was confident it would be her dying; that might be better left a mystery, if for no other reason than to keep Poe from racing in from wherever he was and dying alongside her.

“If…if I find anything else, I’ll get it to you. I messed up, but I’m still your girl.”

Time was up. Hux had withdrawn from the data pad and she took the disk, removing all traces that anyone had been there. With a soft swish of her skirt, she was back in the hallway, almost running to the ballroom, straight into the waiting arms of Kylo Ren.

He couldn’t have picked a more terrible place to have brought her; she’d have taken a firing squad over walking back into that ballroom. Every memory of her engagement party came flooding back in, freezing her in place as her surroundings melted away, taking her back in time. She could see her younger self, frozen at the head of table, blonde hair piled atop her head with a heaviness that threatened to drag her into the floor. A heavy, periwinkle gown engulfed her, it’s boning tight against her ribs to give the illusion of a woman’s curves. She could feel the fabric against her skin.

Next to her Maunder sat, a Cheshire’s grin plastered against his mustached face. She remembered wondering if he’d killed his first wife, and if he would one day kill her, too. _“Smile,”_ Maunder had told her. _“People will think you’re unhappy.”_

“You _were_ unhappy,” a low voice asked, bringing her back to reality. Ren was next to her, expression unreadable as he looked at the masses, drinking and dancing despite his looming presence.

“Are you _in my head?”_ She hissed, seething with fury. “Did you—”

“I didn’t _force_ you to think about it,” he commented unrepentantly. “But I was curious.”

“You had no right.”

He shrugged imperceptibly. “I could go looking for other things, if you’d prefer.”

“Or you could mind your own business and stay out of my memories.”

Varus was looking at the pair of them, his own expression utterly readable. Though he didn’t move, she could see his utter loathing and contempt, focused more on Ren than her. She supposed she was guilty by association.

Ren held out his gloved hand, an invitation she longed to refuse. “Can’t we _leave?”_

“Not quite,” he replied, a flash of anger betraying the coolness he was attempting to project. Begrudgingly, she took it. She felt like a mouse caught in a maze, unable to escape. He was toying with her and there was nothing she could do about it.

“He dances,” she commented dryly when Ren began to move, too inflexible to be truly good, though his form was perfect.

“I had practice,” he replied, looking over her head. “Your brother…Julius? Where is he?”

“Your home world, if I had to guess.”

“Chandrila?”

“Hana City,” she informed him. “He has an apartment there…or, at least he did. I haven’t exactly kept up with the family, you know, being _dead_ and all.”

“A clever ruse,” he agreed absently, still watching something over her head. “Would you like to speak with Varus?”

“What?”

“You’re here? Why not confront him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“He wants you to,” Ren informed her seriously, his attention redrawn to her. “He has things he needs to say to you.”

“Are any of them an _apology?”_

“Unlikely.”

“Why would I say _anything_ , then? Would you hear _your_ parents out?”

He looked genuinely shocked at the question, his careful mask slipping for a moment at the question. She hadn’t considered who she was talking to when she asked it. She held her breath, waiting for retribution. It didn’t come.

“My parents,” he repeated with a soft sigh, almost like a relief. “I…might.”

Good for him. If Varus was too scared to confront his daughter because of Kylo Ren, why should she grant him access?

“They are all afraid of me,” Ren commented, perhaps reading her mood again. “No one would dare cross you.”

“You assume it’s them I don’t trust.”

He half smiled, though it never reached his eyes. “Perceptive.”

The music ended, and though Ren had always left a wide gap between them, wider than even Hux, when they were pretending to hate each other on Hynestia, he still stepped back further, offering her the slightest of bows.

“Ready?”

“Why ask, if you’ve decided for me?”

“I thought you might appreciate some illusion of control,” he replied, sliding back into the man from the cell on the Supremacy. For a moment, so fleeting she barely registered it, she wondered if anyone had ever really loved him. Was he another cast aside child, bullied by people who should have loved him?

He cocked his head slightly as he pressed his hand against her elbow, guiding her straight back out. If he picked up on her musings, though, he said nothing. “Lead the way.”

They stood alone in Varus’s office, her awkward and him overwhelming in the room. “No one is here,” she stated.

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you, during our waltz. He’ll be here.”

She glared openly. “And here I thought you just wanted an excuse to show off your form.”

It was his turn to glower. “Is this how you won over Hux?”

“You know the General; he absolutely _loves_ to talk.”

Ren only scowled deeper, darkening the air around them. “Do you know what happened, after you gave him the little holocron you stole?”

“I didn’t _steal_ it,” she retorted, her stomach churning. Ren’s mood had shifted so suddenly that it caught her off guard. She knew she was better off saying nothing at all and hoping it passed.

“Did he tell you?” Ren was clearly spoiling for a fight, desperate to lash out and hurt someone though she didn’t understand why. They’d been getting along as well as could be hoped for; why wreck it now?

“No,” she replied, hating how breathless she sounded. She couldn’t conceal her terror; could he feel it? Did he like it?

“Ask him to show you his punishment, when we return. See what _talking_ to a princess of the resistance gets you. I wonder if he still thinks your life was worth the punishment he received for asking.”

His words chilled her body as tears pricked at her eyes. He was towering over his, every word dripping with hatred, though she wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was out of concern for his counterpart. She’d touched a nerve somewhere during their time together and he was repaying her for it in the only way he knew how.

The door hissed open behind them, ending their standoff. She spun, still too close for comfort to Ren, as Varus stepped through the door, wary of the scene unfolding in front of him.

“I’ll be waiting, just outside,” Ren told them, a threat more than anything else. Varus stepped out of his way as he swept past Ayva without another word, leaving her alone with Varus, still reeling from his outburst and the fear that she’d directly caused Hux pain by not just going with him on Hynestia like he’d asked her to.

“So,” Varus said, once he felt confident they were alone. Ayva wasn’t; even if Ren wasn’t just outside the door, she was certain he was close enough that he could sense everything happening behind these four walls. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was hoping they’d kill each other, and he could wash himself of all the Bardaks. Was that why he wanted to know where Julius was?

“Ayva lives,” Varus continued, cutting through her thoughts. “After all these years of wondering just what you’d gotten up to, although I have to confess, I’m confused. You’re a representative of the Republic one minute, a scion for the First Order the next.”

“I’m multifaceted,” she replied, hating how hard her voice sounded. It was a vicious cycle of hurt.

“So you are,” Varus noted, his green eyes more curious than angry. “Have…are you captive?”

“How could that possibly matter?” She demanded as she studied the man who had raised her for sixteen years. The resemblance was impossible to deny; they shared the same green eyes, curly blonde hair, the same curved lips, high cheekbones, and softly upturned nose. He even had a similar dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, just like she did.

“I suppose it doesn’t. What does matter is the future. Your brother is a disappointment,” Varus told her, taking one step forward. “But you are not…that is…assuming you took the bait and my inability to contact Senator Riyan is because you exacted some measure of what I presume you felt was justice?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry…what?”

“I had hoped, when you were children that Julius would take my business like I took it from my father before me, and on and on, ten generations back. Your brother prefers to squander his inheritance on women on gambling…he wouldn’t know the end of a blaster from the end of a bantha.”

She was holding her breath.

“I suppose I shoulder some of the blame, pinning all my hopes on Julius,” Varus continued, utterly oblivious to her confusion. “I see my error. Bardak Industries needs someone ruthless, Ayva. Someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty—”

“You’re _kidding,”_ Ayva interrupted, her anger threatening to overwhelm her. “You…you sold in marriage and now- _now_ you want me to take your place as your chosen heir?!”

He was utterly unrepentant. “Everything worked out for the best.”

She turned her back to keep herself from leaping across the room and strangling him with her bare hands. “How could you say that?” She asked as she willed herself to calm down.

“Let bygones be bygones,” Varus urged. Her fingers twitched towards her blaster.

“You know,” she said, spinning around again, unable to contain her anger. “If you’d asked me this when I was sixteen, I’d have said yes.”

“You lacked the skills—”

“I had them!” She half screamed. “I spent my whole life desperate for your attention, your _approval,_ anything that might force you to really see me! I could take apart a blaster with my eyes closed by the time I was seven years old! I knew the mechanics of a plasma bomb before I was eleven! I was _always_ the heir you wanted, but you never noticed because you were too blinded by gender and tradition!”

She had her blaster now, unholstered from her belt and aimed, though she wasn’t sure when she’d reached for it. He held his hands up, eyes wide.  
“Ayva,” he began, but the door behind them hissed open. She didn’t need to turn to know who had come through; the room flooded with cold dread, announcing Ren without a word needing to be spoken.

“He paid Hux to kill you,” Ren said quietly from behind her, “While you were on Hynestia.”

She looked at Varus, finger on the trigger.

“A mistake, I see now,” Varus said hastily.

“He sold you in marriage to a man who murdered his first wife and would have done the same with you,” Ren continued, his deep voice seductive as he stepped forward. Her finger twitched, desperate to pull the trigger and finish what Varus started eight years earlier when he drove her to a temple to be married.

“He doesn’t want you, and he never did.”

That hurt. She hesitated at the sharpness of Ren’s words, blinking rapidly.

“Killing him won’t change that,” she choked out, suddenly ashamed of herself. She was no better than Varus if she killed him. “Let’s just go, he’s not—”

The sound of a lightsaber igniting made her scream. Violent red flashed in front of her eyes. With one slash, Varus crumpled at her feet, dead before he hit the floor. Ren, utterly undone in the moment, turned to look at her, eyes wild. His dark hair fell in his face as he stood there, his plasma blade humming with promise mere feet from her body. This was it, she thought. She’d die here, too.

She swallowed hard, bracing herself for impact, but he flipped his blade off, holstering it beneath his robes as though everything was fine. She was still frozen, her blaster discarded at her feet, as she stared at him.

“Why did you do that?” She whispered, unable to look at Varus’s body.

Ren cocked his head to the side for a moment. “You’re scared…but not sorry…relieved.”

She couldn’t deny it, so she didn’t try.

“The only path is the path forward,” he said, menacing forward with open fury, “The past has nothing for you.”

He swept out with the expectation she would follow. It wasn’t until they were back aboard his shuttle, hurtling towards the Supremacy that she remembered her little bug.

The Resistance heard the entire thing.


	23. Starkiller Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to say really quick, so everyone understands, that Hux's perspective of what is happening around him is flawed and not based in clear reality. I think, with that lens, this chapter makes more sense. Otherwise it feels like a 180 between the two of them where she's just furious. There is some projection happening here.

Hux didn't need to be in the court room to know the mood had shifted. Even Ayva, who had become defiant and irritated in turn, was suddenly contrite as she ramped up to explain the coming events. He understood her need to be seen as apologetic by the galaxy at large; there was no way to defend what happened to the Hosnian System, and it was unlikely that Ayva would even try. The fact that she'd ever forgiven him for it seemed miracle enough, a high point in an otherwise wasted life. 

"It's important for me to clarify a few things," Ayva said quickly. Baume and Szábo nodded, giving her the floor. She inhaled, her face paler in the holo. "What happened to the Hosnian System was a tragedy unlike anything the galaxy has ever seen, and I hope we never see anything like it again. I was there, on Starkiller base, when it happened. A lot of people were. Everyone responsible for what happened on that base is dead."

Hux blinked. Was she really going to try and convince the galaxy that Hux, and by that vein, Ren, weren't responsible for the Hosnian Cataclysm? Even Szábo seemed unimpressed by the argument. 

"Hux's speech is well preserved on the holonet," Szábo reminded her.

"It's almost impossible to describe what Snoke was like," she replied, cringing slightly when she said his name. "The influence he wielded...aided by former Emperor Palpatine. He could do things with his mind...see things that no being should be able to..."

Baume pursed her lips together. "Are you saying Hux was _forced_ to deploy the starkiller?"

Ayva never broke eye contact. "Of course not. He could have said no."

"And would that have prevented the Cataclysm?"

Ayva almost laughed. "Of course not. Someone else would have been given his position and the same options. Comply, or die."

\--

\---

\--

Hux could feel Ayva’s anger radiating off her as Kylo led her back to her cell. There was no helping it; Snoke had instructed her execution and no one could defy the Supreme Leader. Not even him. She’d been given a small stay now that her father was dead; just long enough that she could be positioned to take her father’s company, only to tragically die, passing it on to the First Order through Hux.

Through marriage. Hux already knew how this was going to go. Assuming she didn’t straight up kick his ass the second he asked her a second time, it was a guarantee that she’d say no, and he would be put in the position of forcing her into it, wrecking the fragile relationship that they were both tenuously clinging to.

He didn’t realize how openly he was grappling with his feelings until Ren, having shut her cell door, stopped him. “You must obey Supreme Leader Snoke,” Ren told him, his traitor face hidden beneath his helmet. “If you cannot, someone else will.”

Was it really a conversation if Ren wasn’t hinting that he’d like to replace Hux? “I have no intention of disobeying our Supreme Leader,” Hux sniffed, annoyed more with himself than Ren.

Ren swept off, leaving Hux to his thoughts. Back inside her cell, Ayva was pacing back and forth in a dress that looked out of place for her circumstances.

“How long do I have to stay here?” She demanded the moment the door closed behind him.

“Not much longer,” he told her, straightening his back. “You are going to accompany me to Coru—”

“I’m not going anywhere else with the First Order,” she declared, green eyes blazing. “You can either kill me _right_ here, or you can let me go.”

He stepped closer, chest tight. “You’ll do exactly as I tell you,” he whispered, well aware he was at his most authoritative when his voice was soft. 

She took a step, too, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Or what?”

“Or Ren will come in here and kill you just as he killed your father!” Hux snapped, losing his temper.

“So my choices are, what, then? Spell it out for me, Armitage.”

“You will _marry_ me, or Ren will kill you.”

She turned her back to him, a hand running through her thick hair. “Let me _go,”_ she pleaded, turning back around. “Just…let me _walk away—”_

“You can’t,” he told her dully. “And neither can I.”

She shoved him hard, her face slipping from despair to rage in a second. “We _both know_ if I stay, you’ll end up being ordered to kill me _anyway!”_

He couldn’t argue with her there, though he was willing to let himself hope that, if she complied, he could build a stronger case as to why having a Bardak running the business was better than the First Order. It offered the illusion of separation to the Republic, who would be less likely to come sniffing around if Ayva was planted firmly on Coruscant, the undisputed head.

_As if Ayva would stay._

That was the real problem, he thought. Ayva would bolt the first second she got the chance, vanishing into the wider galaxy, back to the Resistance.

“You could leave,” she continued, reaching for his hand. “I’ll help you…we can vanish, there are hundreds of places no one would ever think to—”

“No.” There was nowhere else for him. He’d spent his entire life here, invested his time and energy into this machine. Walking away meant his entire life’s work was for nothing. He couldn’t do it, not even for Ayva. “You’re leaving with me.”

He turned his back to her, though his heart pounded with fear. She’d come around, he decided. She’d see things his way, he decided. He could _make_ her. Starting with wiping the Republic, and the Resistance, off the map.

He decided they’d fly to Ilum together, though he didn’t remove her stuncuffs until they were safely moving through hyperspace, just in case she decided to try and sabotage him. She wasn’t particularly grateful for the gesture, though he didn’t expect her to be. She was openly defiant and clearly angry and though he didn’t blame her, he was a little annoyed by it.

“How long do you plan to be angry with me?”

“I don’t know,” she replied instantly, as though she’d been planning what she wanted to say in her head. “How long am I your _prisoner,_ Armitage?”

“You’re not my prisoner, Ayva,” he replied with a sigh.

“Oh? No, okay? It’s just, the stun cuffs made it seem like I _was._ Is that how you ask a woman to marry you on Arkanis? You handcuff her after your colleague murders her father—”

“He _deserved_ what he got!” Armitage snapped.

“Well you’re certainly the _expert.”_

“I thought you’d be happy to have him gone.”

“You know what, maybe I would have been if I hadn’t come back to a _prison cell_ in which you informed me that, despite my best efforts, I was going to marry you whether I wanted to or not. How could I, a woman who just _barely_ dodged one forced marriage, be upset that I’m being forced into another?”

“You said you were in love with me,” he reminded her through gritted teeth.

“I’m curious what that means to you, Armitage,” she replied, her voice dripping with venom.

He genuinely didn’t know, though he felt mollified enough to stay silent for rest of the journey. She’d be mad, he knew, far longer than just today, but he’d also done much worse and she’d forgiven him. He was banking on time eroding her frustration while making her see that they really wanted the same things.

She gasped when they dropped out of hyperspace. “Armitage,” she said, staring at the icy planet looming in front of them. “What is this?”

“The end of the war,” he told her, never tiring of the sight of Starkiller base. When he’d come a decade earlier, it had been little more than a floating ball of rock, hollowed out by the Empire before him. He’d perfected it, made it useful, something _special._ Even Ayva couldn’t help but look on with awe as they descended. A hopeful sign, he thought.

“If you promise to do exactly as I say, I will not restrain you or put you in a cell,” he told her when they docked. Her anger had melted into an emotion he didn’t recognize. She nodded, taking his hand when he offered it.

“When you say _end the war,”_ she began as they walked down sanitized white floors toward his personal quarters. The base bustled with activity that made his chest surge with pride. This was his legacy, his crowning achievement. He was on the cusp of having everything he’d ever wanted. _Nothing_ could ruin this.

“What exactly do you mean?” She finished, her eyes focused on his face.

“Tomorrow, I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this the halfway point of this story. Things happen really fast over the next few chapters that catch us all up to why Hux is on trial. The second act takes us to TRoS, though it deviates in noticeable ways.
> 
> As always, I appreciate ALL the feedback I've gotten and any feedback that comes in the upcoming weeks. 
> 
> Lastly, my semester started this week (last one!!), so if I'm late or miss my Monday mark over the next 2-3 weeks while I settle into my new routine, just know that I haven't abandoned the story and am still aiming to update once a week.


	24. A Decade Under the Influence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long- I got covid and it took me DOWN for a bit.

_I'm coming over but it never was enough_

_I've thought it through and my worst brings out the best in you_

_I've got a bad feeling about this_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

"Where were you, exactly, before the Cataclysm?" Szàbo asked, determined to find some way to blame her for what happened. He was foaming at the mouth, looking for a way to show the galaxy what happened was a one off and not part of a larger, systemic failure at the hands of the New Republic. 

"In a holding cell," Ayva replied.

"You didn't try and escape?"

"There was no need," she replied primly. "I was set free."

"By who, exactly?"

"General Hux," she replied, wondering when questions like that were going to start feeling obvious. 

"He...freed you? Surely he must have known-"

"That I'd try and destroy Starkiller base? Yes, I think he understood that very well," Ayva told Szàbo, still careful not to be too openly defiant. She was trying to free him.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

She wanted to scream at him that obviously she was, since she was sitting in a tribunal and not her own home. She bit her cheek until she tasted blood, staring the man down from where she sat. 

"I was."

"What do you attribute to your lack of success?"

"I..." it was still painful, reliving the final moments before the laser ripped from the core of the planet and the fear she felt, unable to stop it. "I was unaware of the sheer magnitude of the weapon. By the time I figured out how to destroy it, it was too late to stop the Hosnian Cataclysm."

The room was silent enough to hear a pin drop. 

"Were you hindered by other actors?" Baume asked gently.

Ayva stared blankly into space, reliving the final day before everything fell apart. 

\--

\---

\--

His jaw was set with a determination that frightened her and for the first time, Ayva considered the idea that she knew very little about the man she professed to love.

“Where are we going?” She asked, certain she would not like the answer.

“You can stay here,” he stressed, a door to a nondescript bedchamber opening, “Or you can stay in a cell.”

“What hospitality,” she told him snidely. He shot her a look that promised pain if she kept it up, hands folded behind his back.

“There is nowhere safe for you to go,” he informed her, as if she hadn’t been there when they landed on the frozen, barren planet. “You are infinitely better off with me.”

She didn’t doubt that part for a moment. 

“I—” He began, his face still emotionless. Ayva had little hope an appeal to his emotion would work, but she had to try.

“Don’t do this,” she urged, closing the distance between them to put her hands on his face. He closed his eyes when her skin touched his, unresponsive. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll go where you tell me. Just don’t do this, _please—”_

Eyes still closed, he wrapped his hands around her wrists and removed them from his face. “It’s too late. It’s already done.”

“It’s not, it—”

“That’s enough!” He snapped, his voice raised. “You are in _no position_ to bargain with me, Ayva. Can you just, _for once,_ accept the circumstances you are in?”

She took a step back. “Is that what you’d like me to do?”

“Yes,” he replied, voice clipped. “Stay here, don’t _move,_ until I return.”

He looked uncertain at her silence though he didn’t probe it. That, she thought, was for the best.

“This is almost over,” he told her, his eyes imploring her to agree. “After tomorrow, there will be nothing standing in our way.”

She didn’t say anything, her hands balled into fists at her sides. There would be nothing left for them if he carried out his plan, no future to be had for them or anyone else. She bit back the urge to beg; she’d spent enough time trying to appeal to his better nature without success. Ayva was skilled, really, at one thing, and that was destruction. She watched him walk out as a rough plan began racing through her mind. If he wouldn’t stop his super weapon, there was no reason she couldn’t.

It was laughably easy to get out of the room he’d left her in, and easier still to get through the labyrinth of halls. He’d clearly left her far from the main set of barracks, perhaps out of concern she might make an escape for it. She could feel cold air leaking through precisely cut stone. Ayva couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left her here on purpose. As she walked, she followed the cold, considering the possibility that Hux expected her to escape and chose his location based on the route that would cause the least amount of damage and offer the least amount of scrutiny. Who would blame him if he lost her? Ayva was notoriously difficult to pin down.

The cold seeped around her as she made her way down a black stone cut stairway. Compared to the smooth, sleek durasteel of the upper levels, this felt almost crude in its construction. It was as though the rock beneath the surface had been carved as best as someone could manage it, though the heavy black door had clearly been brought in. It opened and she stepped through, expecting to find herself in a cavern that would take her to the surface.

In a way, she supposed she was in a cavern, though it had clearly been designed by man and not nature. A huge throne had been carved out with what Ayva imagined would be painstaking work. Set atop the throne was a holo; the massive, pockmarked being looked like nothing she’d ever seen before. She didn’t need to ask _who_ they were; the scarring on his body was reminiscent of the scarring she’d seen on Hux’s back.

“Ayva Bardak,” Snoke leaned forward, his face peering down curiously at her. “Long have I wanted to meet you.”

She took a hesitant step forward, cringing slightly at the sound of her boots echoing around her.

“You look exactly as General Hux pictures you in his mind.”

“Why am I here?” She asked with another slow step.

“You are my _guest,”_ Snoke replied, waving massive arms outward, a gesture of friendship she knew was for show. “How are you enjoying my hospitality?”

She didn’t respond, instead focusing on the creature in front of her. It was hard to look at him, she thought; he was so horribly grotesque it was impossible to imagine that his species were best reflected in his image.

“I thought we could get to know each other a little better,” Snoke continued, his soft voice filled with the promise of violence. Her feet were moving even as her brain instructed them to stop. Like a puppet on a string, she closed the distance between the two of them, pausing feet from the edge of the stone carved throne.

“Kneel,” he told her. She jutted her chin upward, lip curling slightly. It didn’t matter; an invisible hand pushed against her, forcing her knees to slam hard into the ground.

“Your hope calls to me,” he told her as she looked up at him from her position on the floor. “I could taste it across the galaxy. Tell me girl, how can you _hope_ so much for a man who has never known the feeling himself? All he has is his _hatred.”  
_ “You’re wrong,” she whispered, well aware he could hear her.

A low, rumbling laugh filled the cavern around them. “I have known him as a boy, I have seen his mind.”

Cold fear began to wrap itself around her throat. Her adrenaline had kept it at bay but Snoke’s laughter had brought it creeping back. She was rooted to her spot, alone with a being who could control her across a holo.

“Perhaps you have _seen_ something I haven’t,” he suggested as something began pressing against her head. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

“No—” she began, but blinding pain suddenly shattered through every other emotion. She attempted to reach for her face, but her arms were pinned against her side. Curling fingers began pulling out memories at what felt like random, forcing her to relive them. Some were evoked no emotion at all, like running through the jungle or a life day party she once attended with her mother. Others were more difficult. Snoke lingered on anything that evoked a painful emotional response, peering through her engagement to Maunder, screaming sessions at the hands of her father, and her torture aboard the Supremacy.

She rebelled where she could. He attempted to pull the memory of the time Hux kissed her on Corelia and Ayva yanked up Ren killing her father instead. Snoke attempted to look around the Rebel base, his presence demanding a name and Ayva repeated Mirren Prime, over and over, picturing the base in her head and putting herself there, running through trees and building bombs.

Electricity surged through her body, forcing her to the floor as more laughter sang in her ears. “All you _have_ is hope,” Snoke sneered. “Has he not shown you who he is, who he _truly_ is?”

She was crying silently, every inch of her aching as the pain withdrew, leaving emptiness behind.   
“Look around you, girl. You stand before his very _genius,_ even as you ask him to reconsider. Starkiller could not exist without General Hux…he will deploy it not because he _has_ to, but because he _wants_ to.”

She took a deep breath, still pressed between the ground and the crushing force of Snoke’s will.

“You are _nothing_ in the scheme of the galaxy, and when the time comes he will execute you just as I have commanded. General Hux follows orders.”

The door opened behind her, bringing with them a rush of cold air. The pressure lifted from her body as rough hands pulled her to her feet.

“Take her to a cell,” Snoke instructed the storm troopers currently gripping her. “Guard her with your lives.”

Ayva felt hysterical as they dragged her back, laughing loudly. The sound echoed around her, piercing the cloud of despair Snoke had wrought.

“What happens if you’re wrong?” She asked, looking over her shoulders at the twisted being staring back at her. He didn’t speak and moments later, the door hissed shut, separating the two for what Ayva hoped was forever.


	25. If You're Gone

_If you're gone, maybe it's time to come home_

_There's an awful lot of breathing room_

_But I can hardly move_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

Ayva put her head in her hands for just a moment, eyes closed, as she tried not to dwell too much on that day. Could one moment really define a person's entire life? Not for the first time, the futility of what she was trying to accomplish sank in. She turned her to look over her shoulder, where Poe sat, almost rigid in his seat. He couldn't save her this time even if he wanted to. She looked back at the tribunal.

"A trillion people died that day," Szàbo told her. "Starkiller base shows the lack of urgency the Resistance--"

"You mean Republic," Ayva snapped without thinking. A hush settled across the court room as she said, unthinkingly in her frustration.

"Excuse me?" Szàbo asked, his red eyes narrowed. 

"The Resistance functioned as a clandestine navy on behalf of the New Republic," Ayva replied, almost automatic. "We weren't a government organization or even truly recognized by the New Republic. I don't know how much anyone really knew about what we were doing but I _do know_ that the New Republic disbanded their official Navy and refused to recognize the growing threat of the First Order hidden out in the Unknown Regions because every time we ran into them, we made a report and it was sent off. Starkiller Base represents a breakdown in the New Republic's willingness to fight another war or take a domestic threat seriously, and if you want to grill me on the failures the Resistance made, fine. But I'm not going to sit here and let a new central government cast blame aside and pretend they had no part to play so they can go back to business as usual!"

Someone from the back of the room coughed, breaking up the silence. Ayva waited for Szàbo to respond, but it was Baume who stepped in.

"You're right," she agreed softly, glancing to her counter part. "We're here to learn about former General Hux, not place blame. There is plenty of that to go around."

Szàbo nodded, though it appeared to be painful. "Yes...continue, _please."_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

Ayva woke from an exhausted, nightmare laced sleep to the sound of the door opening in her cell. Hux stepped in, his face illuminated beneath the red light.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she muttered, dragging herself upward into a sitting position. He waited until the door closed to abandon his pretense of stoic authority, closing the gap between them and dropping to his knee, gloved hands reaching out.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, eyes searching her face.

“No,” she said, adverting her eyes as she said the lie. Her ribs ached. It was a lie, of course. Snoke couldn’t have done more harm if he’d tried, at least when it came to Ayva and Hux. Now, more than ever, Ayva could not understand the blind obedience he paid the creature when there was a better option. She’d daydreamed of nothing but rescue and Poe since she’d been put here. How could Hux not also wish for a way out?

“I’ve come to bring you back—”

“No.”

He paused, his face frozen with concern. “No?”

She swallowed. “I’m not going back to your room with you, unless you’re going to pack a bag and leave with me.”

“Ayva, you’re being—”

“What?” She asked, though she couldn’t muster up the energy to be anything other than disappointed. “Unreasonable? How many times are you allowed to put me in jail before I’m allowed to put my foot down? How many times can I go with you, agree to your demands, before I simply can’t do it anymore? Every time I say yes to you, you move the goal post while refusing to meet me even part of the way. I knew who you were when I came into this but so did _you,_ and yet you make all the demands and I make all the concessions.”

She might have hit him, for all the shock on his face. “You’re exhausted,” he said after a moment, though his voice was strangled.

“I’m not,” she told him, another lie. “I will _not_ be a part of this with you. We can walk out of here together and leave it behind, or you can walk out of this door and leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he swore. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” she sighed, closing her eyes. It made her sick to say, cold with dread, but she knew it. “Just like I know _you_ know that if you use this thing, there’s no path forward for us. Please don’t do it, Armitage. Let’s _leave,_ we can warn the galaxy, we can do _anything_ else—”  
“I asked to spare the system,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. “I tried, Ayva.”

“The _system?”_ She asked, all the breath escaping her body. “You’re going to destroy a _system?”_

He dropped his head, looking down at the floor. She reached for his face, dragging it closer to her own.

“You don’t have to do this,” she told him urgently, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “Look at me Armitage. It’s not failure to walk away. I _saw_ what he’s like…what it must have been like for you…you didn’t deserve any of it, and you still don’t. I’ll help you—”

“You need to get out of here,” he said suddenly, as though he’d just woken up from a trance. “You need to leave before—”  
She was shaking her head, but he’d pulled himself out of her grasp, half wild looking. “You stay here. I’ll be back for you.”

“Armitage wait-!” She shouted, but he vanished before she could say anything else. This time, Ayva did scream, venting all her frustration into the air around her, not that it did any good. It was like he couldn’t _hear_ her, no matter how many times she said it. She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids, willing herself to wake up in another reality. More than anything, Ayva wanted him to come back in, bags packed, ready to go. She wanted him to choose her, just like she’d chosen him. She wanted Snoke to be wrong.

Time moved slowly in the cell; by the time he returned, she had no idea how long it had really been, though it felt like years. Her heart sank; he was dressed in what could only be described as a parade uniform. The urge to knock the stiff hat from his head almost overwhelmed her. The door hissed shut behind him as they stood there, an invisible line between them.

“This door is scheduled to open in ten minutes,” he began, straightening the cuff of his great coat. “There will be no one inside; everyone will be out. Take my shuttle and go. Hide somewhere no one will ever look for you. Live the life you want.”  
Though his face looked impassive, his eyes were burning, with what she believed to be clear pain. She bit her bottom lip.

“So that’s it?” She half-whispered, though she didn’t dare cross the line drawn between them.

“It was a nice dream,” he said, dropping his arms at his side. “Perhaps I met you in a past life and this was my attempt to get it right. In another life, maybe I will. Not here…not now. You don’t belong here, but I _do._ There is nowhere else for me.”

She shook her head. “You’re _wrong…_ and I’ll be waiting, when you’re ready to leave.”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Don’t wait for me.”

She blinked against the tears as he took a step back.

“If you come back, I’ll be forced to kill you, Ayva. Don’t put me that position.”

“No promises. I’m _scum,_ after all,” she breathed, trying to make a joke. He didn’t smile. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think you know I do,” he told her, his voice soft.

Her heart pounded unforgiving in her chest. She was desperate for him to stay, to change his mind, though she knew he wouldn’t.

“I love you!” She told him when he turned his back for the door. He paused, looking over his shoulder. He didn’t respond, though he nodded in return, but she could see his regret.

Ayva resisted the urge to cry once he was gone. He’d given her an open window to escape and she could take it if she wanted, though she knew he had to know there was a good chance she wouldn’t. She had to _try_ and stop the onslaught that was coming to buy time until the resistance arrived.

The door opened, as he promised, leaving her a clear path forward, though it hardly mattered. She took off running, hoping all the paths would be clear. She found a maintenance panel and slipped in, closing the panel tight behind her. The maintenance halls would allow her to move

through the facility without being noticed, though she knew Hux would know she was still there the minute he saw his unstolen shuttle. Around her, she could hear his voice, reverberating against the durasteel, screaming against the icy, outside air. She ignored it, moving as quickly as she could, hoping it was nothing more than just a rally. She just needed enough time, she thought, sliding through a narrow passageway.

“FIRE!”

She froze, fingers still slid between the grates of a vent, when the ground beneath her shook violently. She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. He’d done it, she thought, pressing her back against the cold metal shaft she was currently crouched in. She was tempted to stop moving, to sit there until help arrived or someone else found her and took her back. A numbness was creeping up her spine, threatening to paralyze her. The feeling urged her forward with a single-minded determination. One system was gone, lost to the galaxy. They wouldn’t lose another.

She slid into a small control unit deep in the ground. She had her comm in her pocket still. It was a risk to send an outgoing communique; if Armitage realized she’d done it; he’d be able to trace the Resistance. If she didn’t, they were all sitting ducks.

“Poe?” She spoke, adjusting the frequency to Poes. “It’s Ayva Bardak. Where are you?”

“Ayva!” Poe crackled back. “I thought you were _dead!”_

“Not yet,” she breathed. “But close. Where _are you?”_

“Headed back to base, you should too! Did you see the star killer? It took out the Hosnian System—”

“I know!” She interrupted, her stomach filling with lead. “I’m _on it!”_

There was a pause. “Do they _know_ you’re there?”

“They think I’m in a holding cell,” she replied, covering for Hux. “They’ll figure it out though.”

“Can you destroy it?” Poe asked, his voice laced with urgency.

“With _help,_ we could blow it up, but I need explosives—”

“Hang tight, Aves! Help is on the way. Keep out of sight until I can talk to Leia, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “But hurry!”

“Copy that.”

Ayva waited for Poe in the vents, making her way lower toward the oscillator. If they wanted to blow _anything_ up, the oscillator was always the first place to start. It was freezing in the metal vent and for the first time, Ayva wondered if she ought to invest in warmer clothing as she pulled her knees up against her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm.

“Ayva?!” Poe called, his voice reverberating around her. At the same time, her pocket vibrated.

“I’m here,” she told Poe, pulling out her data pad with shaking hands.

“We’re on our way. Finn is coming, they have bombs. Meet them in the thermal oscillator and help place them!”  
“Who is _Finn?”_ Ayva demanded, but Poe never answered. She dropped out of the grate, landing hard on her feet.

 _Who designs these things?_ She wondered, looking at the long, narrow bridge that connected one end of the oscillator to the other. The sheer amount of workplace deaths that must have occurred stopped Ayva for a moment as she resisted the urge to peer into the chasm below. She didn’t need to know it was a long, terrifying fall to a certain death.

She hid behind a support beam, the black of her clothes blending in with the black material. With time, she finally looked down at her data pad.

_You didn’t leave. Where are you?_

So he knew. That wasn’t a surprise, though she hoped he might have discovered her _after_ they placed the bombs, at least. She was tempted to respond, but what could she say that she hadn’t already said? He’d made his choice, hadn’t he? It wasn’t her. Ayva willed herself to harden into ice; she could grieve when this was all over.

“Hey kid,” Han Solo stepped into Ayva’s view with a massive Wookie she recognized as Chewbacca. Ayva had never met either of them personally; the two of them were famous in the Galaxy. “You’re Ayva, right?”

“Right,” she agreed breathlessly. Han shoved a heavy bag into her chest.

“These are for you.”

She took the straps, nearly falling over from the weight.

 _“I’ll help,”_ Chewbacca rumbled, taking half the heavy, black ion bombs easily into his arms.

“Put them on anything load bearing,” she whispered, affixing one to the column she’d just hidden behind. Han, too, took two either hand, walking toward the bridge as Chewbacca and Ayva spread out, finding some peace in knowing that at least some of the Resistance was already here, and that she had something to do that felt useful.

The light that had flooded the oscillator chamber was receding quickly, pausing Ayva as she twisted the top of one of the bombs for detonation.

“I know you’re here,” Hux’s voice made Ayva nearly jump out of her skin. “Where are you hiding?”

“I thought some skiing might be nice,” Ayva murmured into the comm, setting her last bomb. The air in the room dropped by several degrees as Kylo Ren swept in. Chewbacca had the detonator; he didn’t need her for that. She slipped out before Ren caught her, pulling the vibrating data pad back out of her pocket. Poe had dropped coordinates. She was almost out of this place. It made her heart race to imagine being free, even if she went right back to where she started.

“You were supposed to leave,” he hissed, slightly breathless. He was moving, too. Ayva took off down a hall, hiding around the corner to make sure no one was coming.

“My comprehension is poor,” she replied absently, darting down another sleek, bright hall.

“Are you trying to _die?”_ He demanded.

“You know me,” she said flippantly. “Always with the death wish.”

The ground split beneath them; Chewbacca had detonated the bombs. Ayva reached for a wall to keep herself upright as dust and rock shook from the ceiling into her hair.

“What have you _done?!”_ He demanded, his voice filled with fury.

“What are you talking about?” She asked with the shaking stopped. “I’m making a snowman as we speak.”

“Do you know what you’ve _done?!”_ He continued, his words rising in octaves.

“Made a snowman without eyes, by the looks of it—”

“Ayva I swear to the maker, I will—”  
“What? You’ll _kill me?”_ She shot back, her face hitting the freezing, night air of the starkiller base. The ground shook again with more violence than before, knocking her into the snow.

“Is that your hope?” Armitage asked into the comm, his voice clearer than before.

“You caught me,” she all but snarled back, brushing snow off her exposed abdomen. “All this was an elaborate ruse—”

“That I believe,” he interrupted. She could hear him on the wind, she realized. He had a blaster, held against one of his shoulders, pointed directly at her. It had never occurred to her he _might_ actually kill her, but in the light of the looming base, all she could see was his anger reflected back at her.

“What do you believe?” She demanded, her voice carried off by the whipping air around her.

“This was all part of your grand plan,” he shouted. “You’re professed feelings, nothing more than lies!”

“Shut UP!” She screamed, her hurt flooding into her stomach. “You’re so _stupid—”_

“I’m not wrong!”

“You ARE wrong!” She screamed as he came closer. “You’re wrong AND you’re stupid!”

“Then what was this?!” He demanded, never taking the scope of his weapon off her.

“Your gullibility that you could get away with DESTROYING A SYSTEM!” She was so close to closing the gap between them and hitting him over and over until logic penetrated his thick, stupid skull.

“You hoped I’d bring you here, you faked—”

“SLEEPING WITH YOU? IS THAT WHAT I FAKED?!” She demanded; arms thrown out when the ground shook again. Where was Poe? She desperately wanted out of this conversation.

“YES!” He yelled back, his finger on the trigger. “I think it is!”

“AYVA!” Poe’s voice overhead filled her with relief as the ground split open, separating her and Armitage.

“You’re not leaving,” he screamed.

“Shoot me, then,” she replied, arms thrown up in the air as Poe lowered a rope ladder. She caught it, leaving him behind on the crumbling planet.

She heard the crack and for a split second she thought it was the planet. It took her a second before the burning of blaster fire ripped through her shoulder. Poe’s hand grabbed her before she could let go, dragging her into the tiny two-seater as blood poured from the wound.

Poe closed the cockpit as Ayva looked down at the tiny dot that was Hux.

“Are you alright?” Poe asked as he began to race toward the atmosphere.

Ayva settled back into her seat, one hand gripping the non-fatal wound. She closed her eyes. “No, I’m not.”


	26. Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, next chapter is much longer and is coming later this week, I'm working on editing it.

_Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?_

_Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?_

_Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?_

_Didn't it all seem new and exciting, I felt your arms twisting around me_

_I should've slept with one eye open at night_

_We found Wonderland, you and I got lost in it_

_And we pretended it could last forever_

_Life was never worse but never better_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

The conversation shifted to Holdo's maneuver. What was the thought process, how did they come to the decision, how was Holdo chosen? Ayva stared up at Baume who's eyes were shining in anticipation of those answered questions.

"I don't know," Ayva said honestly with a shrug. "Admiral Holdo made the choice without telling anyone."

Bauma and Szàbo's faces dropped in disappointment. Let Holdo be a hero without dissection, Ayva thought a little too protectively. 

"When did you realize she was going to jump to light speed through the Finalizer?" Szàbo pressed. 

"About a minute after she did it," Ayva replied with a sigh. "When I was picking the debris of the Finalizer off my body."

Baume and Szàbo exchanged a glance. "You were _on_ the Finalizer?"

Had they ignored _all_ of Poe's testimony, she wondered irritably. "Yes, as an attempted diversion...ordered by my commanding officer."

"Commander Dameron," Baume said, the memory coming back to her. 

"During his mutiny," Szàbo added dryly.

She glared up at him. "Yes. During _our_ mutiny."

\--

\---

\--

Ayva sat at a port window, burning cup of caf in her hand, watching as the First Order destroyed their medical transport. The liquid shook as she raised it to her lips, shoulder aching from her wound. The explosion reflected off the glass and though there was no sound in space, she thought she could feel the reverberation of the destruction through her own bones. They would die out here without some kind of miracle. Her data pad vibrated again, another message from Hux, demanding they surrender. Ayva didn’t bother pulling it out; the fate of the Resistance would be hers, as well.

Poe strode up, his face smudged with dirt and his eyes blazing.

“Holdo!” He exploded, sitting across Ayva, running a hand through messy curls. “She called me a fly boy!”

Ayva shrugged. “You _are_ reckless, you know.”

“We’re _all_ reckless,” he muttered, eyes laser focused on her. “It’s practically a requirement at this point.”

She took another sip. “Maybe they wish we weren’t.”

“It’s what’s kept us all alive and you _know_ it…and I need you to be reckless, again.”

“No,” she said automatically, pressing her back harder against the bench she was sitting again.

“You haven’t even heard what I’m asking,” he complained.

“I don’t _need_ to hear it,” she told him quickly. “I can sense the badness of it without words needing to be spoken.”

“It’s not a bad plan,” he protested. “It could save us all. Just hear me out.”

Ayva gesture for him to lay it out.

“I need you to help Finn and Rose sneak aboard the—”

“No.” She interrupted tonelessly. She’d go back there over her dead body.

“Ayva,” Poe began plaintively, but she held her hand up to stop him.

“I won’t do it.”  
“We’ll _die—”_

“What did Holdo say, when you told her this plan?” Ayva demanded.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Holdo! Ha! I don’t trust her; do _you_ trust her?”

“Leia trusted her,” Ayva reminded him. “What would _Leia_ say about this plan?”

“That it was reckless and likely to get someone killed,” Poe said hastily. “But we _have_ to try something, Ayva we’re burning fuel. They’re bound to catch us sooner or later. You’re the only one who’s spent time on the Finalizer—”

“In a prison cell,” she reminded him.

“All you have to do is get them in,” Poe continued, brown eyes sparkling.

“How do you expect me to do _that?”_ She demanded.

“Your data pad still vibrating?” He asked suddenly nodding with his head toward her pocket. She paused.

“How do you know that?”  
“Kaydel has been monitoring all in going and outgoing communiques. _Someone_ on our ship is getting messages from the First Order…I think it’s you.”

“I’m not a spy,” she all but snarled. Poe held up his hands in surrender.

“I know you’re not. I never thought you were. He’s offering you an out, though, isn’t he?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Examine the facts, Ayva. There was the whole thing with Mekeb, weird but possibly overlookable, had he not taken you hostage on Hynestia and kept you alive. I think he’s _in love_ with you, and if you asked him to lower the shields to talk to you, I think he’d abandon his rationality and do it.”

“He shot me,” Ayva reminded Poe, not refuting any of the points he made. Why bother when Poe was so obviously right?

“Love makes us do crazy things. Just _ask—”_

“He’s going to know I’m lying,” she told Poe. “I told him I’d never join him.”

Poe’s expression softened around the corners. “Trust me Ayves. Love makes us do crazy things.”

Poe left Ayva in place to round up the others. It was a full-blow mutiny he planned, one Ayva wanted to be far away from, more for plausible deniability than her personal disagreement. While she waited, she pulled out the data pad where message after message awaited her. Poe was half right; Hux’s feelings were on clear display, ranging from fury to desperation as he reached out, both threatening and begging her to reconsider. He’d know this was a ploy, a trap of some kind and it was likely the minute he had his hands on her again he’d lock her away until he’d finally wiped out the Resistance. Her fingers hesitated over the keys as she thought about what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him he was stupid, to beg _him_ to reconsider, to run away, to join her. Her fingers tapped out slowly, the only thing that really bothered her:

_Admit you were wrong. I did love you._

A decent start, she thought, balancing the data pad on her knee as she took another drink. She looked out the window, imagining him looking back, wondering if she could see him, just like she wondered if he could see her. What was he thinking?

The date pad vibrated instantly in response.

_Did?_

It wasn’t the response she expected. She’d expected fury as a response, not fear. In moments like the one they were both immersed in, it was impossible to think he was truly lost. Could someone so devoid of humanity, like he so often seemed, be so afraid she didn’t love him anymore? She sighed.

_Do._

It was tempting to offer a harsh rebuke, to remind him of how often it was her reaching out to him while he offered very little in return. What good was love without sacrifice? Without courage? Even now, as she sat there planning to go straight back to the place she’d narrowly escaped, Ayva knew if he betrayed even the smallest hint of remorse or regret, she’d stay and help him leave. The problem, she thought, was how little of either he actually felt. Running right back to him wasn’t going to change his mind about his actions. If anything, her staying put was the best course of action if she wanted him to hesitate.

_You’ll die, if you stay._

She sighed.

_You know I have a death wish._

She waited, counting slowly in her head as she stared back out into space. The data pad vibrated.

_Come back. Join me._

“Are you ready?” Poe was back, his expression carefully guarded. Goosebumps erupted up her arms as she stood; she desperately didn’t want to go back.

“No,” she replied, sending a message back.

_I’m on my way._

“Is this going to work?” Rose asked anxiously, pulling a piece of dusrasteel paneling from the escape pod.

“Yes,” Ayva said dully though her heart thrummed with fear in her throat.

“You’re _sure_ he won’t just blast us out of space?” She continued as Finn watched Ayva carefully.

“I’m sure.”

“How?”

“Because he promised he wouldn’t.”

“Because he _cares_ for her,” Finn explained to Rose, as if it were obvious. Ayva turned her face so she wouldn’t have to see the surprise and revulsion she was sure to meet her.

“Well _obviously,”_ Rose retorted. Ayva looked up to see Rose staring Finn down like he was stupid. “Everyone knows _that._ I just can’t believe he thinks she’d abandon the Resistance now without some kind of ulterior motive.”

“Maybe love makes people dumb,” Finn replied as Ayva nodded, though she suspected it was a little more complicated than that. Perhaps he hoped she’d changed her mind, or perhaps he wanted to see her again, regardless of if she really wanted to stay or not.

After working so hard to keep the secret of Hux, it felt strange that everyone just _knew._ Poe had accused him of loving her, and so had Rose. Everyone knew, though they didn’t accuse her of anything in return. Was it because they didn’t believe she did, or did they care about _her_ enough not to comment on it? She suspected the latter, and she was grateful for it.

“Although, Hux has always been dumb,” Finn added, glancing toward her.

“Just stay hidden and _don’t_ get caught. I can buy you time but not if he realizes you’re traipsing about,” Ayva told the pair.

“I can _fly_ under the radar,” Finn insisted as Rose nodded, but. Ayva wasn’t convinced.

She held her breath as they approached the Finalizer, waiting to smash against the shield but they flew through seamlessly, straight towards the docking bay. Ayva swallowed hard.

“You can do this,” Rose told her, squeezing her arm.

“Give him hell,” Finn added.

“Yeah! Remind him who he’s dealing with!”

Rose and Finn vanished into the wall, leaving Ayva standing there with nothing but her thoughts. The shuttle docked and with trembling fingers, she opened the hatch.

_Here goes nothing._


	27. Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there is the possibility that this chapter will feel like whiplash. Hux, human disaster, comes a little unhinged but honestly so does Ayva.
> 
> Also if you're here for a good time and not a sexy time, avoid the two of them in the closet.

_Thinking about you, you're in my head_

_Even without you, I'd still feel dead_

_Why do I run back to you like I don't mind if you fuck up my life?_

_I'm wondering, why do all the monsters come out at night?_

_Why do we sleep where we want to hide?_

\--

\---

\--

Hux paced around his cell, the tiny data pad in hand as he watched Ayva slowly come unhinged as her third hour of questioning came to a close. She was visibly losing patience with Baume and Szábo, a familiar, reckless edge settling into her features, noticeable even in the graining light of the projection. 

"Why would you go back if he shot you?" Baume was asking, a reasonable question. 

Ayva gritted her teeth. "I was asked to go back."

"But you wanted to, too?" Szábo asked, though it wasn't _really_ a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I hoped I could persuade him to leave."

"Were you successful?"

Ayva looked like she might murder Szábo on the spot. "Obviously not."

"If you were unable to convince him to leave, what _did_ you manage to do?"

Hux hated the constant replay running through his head, but he couldn't stop himself from picturing those last, unhinged moments.

\--

\---

\--

Armitage met Ayva in the docking bay, a pair of stun cuffs in his hands. He wasn’t completely devoid of sense; she wasn’t here out of love, but duty to her cause and her friends. He’d cleared out the bay so there could be no audience to their reunion. The thought occurred to him that they may have sent her to assassinate him and he certainly didn’t want his men to witness that. She was their weapons expert afterall. He supposed they might as well put her to good use, in their final hour.

She came in an escape pod. He stood at attention, hoping his face was unreadable, as a hiss of steam escaped the hatch. He could see the shadowy outline of her figure, and then the woman herself. Her boots echoed down the ramp as she walked, one hand resting on the handle of her blaster.

He felt a pang of guilt when he recognized the same look of exhaustion on her face he so often found on his own. Ayva had always been antithetical to himself. If he was a dark cloud, she was sunshine personified.

 _I’m doing this to her,_ he thought guiltily. She’d braided half her hair, leaving the rest to fall down her shoulders in limp curls. He resisted the urge to touch one as she stopped in front of him, somehow smaller than he remembered her. She peered up at him reaching one soft hand upward to touch just beneath his nose.

“You’re hurt,” she said, her voice vibrating through his skull. He could feel his body relax knowing she was back and she was safe. Alive.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. Her postured sagged slightly and she withdrew her hand as though he’d struck her. Eyes drifted down to the stun cuffs in his hands.

“You know you can’t hold me,” she told him matter of factly, offering up her wrists. 

“I don’t _want_ to restrain you,” he admitted, aware of how desperate he sounded. Their eyes met again, and he saw hope flash across her guarded expression. It almost made him angry.

She touched his hand. “Then don’t.”

She bit her bottom lip nervously. He knew she’d come for reasons outside of her personal feelings, though he didn’t know _what_ her game was, and in that moment, it didn’t matter to him. She still _had_ feelings for him. He could see it on her pretty face. She’d make another plea for escape, to run off together. He knew it like he knew his own name. It was becoming increasingly tempting; the time apart without response had taught him how little tolerance he had for living without her now.

How had it come to this? He put the stun cuffs on her anyway, convinced if he didn’t, he’d have to answer for it later. Snoke was too focused on eradicating the Resistance to care if Ayva escaped the destruction of Starkiller base or not, but he _would_ care if word got out that Hux let her walk through the Finalizer like she was part of the crew…let her blow it apart while he stood by and watched.

“I have to,” he told her, one hand on her elbow to guide her out of the bay.

“The perks of being the boss, yeah?” She shot back, slipping into her adversarial persona so easily he barely noticed the shift.

“You _know_ it’s more complicated than that,” he replied in exasperation, playing his part. It was a dance only they knew the steps to, one he willingly moved to without any prompting.

“Oh, right, of course. You know, in a _real_ military, you would have absolute authority.”

She was goading him. He knew it, and yet, it was working. “This _is_ a real military, Ayva.”

“I don’t know,” she replied, as if they were disagreeing on a flavor of ice cream. “I’ve been here long enough. It seems more cult than military, if you ask me.”

He nearly tripped over his feet, pulling her into a nearby supply closet so he could say what he wanted without being overheard.

“This is going to be awkward if I have to be restrained the entire time,” she told him dryly.

“I didn’t—this isn’t—” He spluttered, but Ayva was clearly uninterested. Her mouth slanted over his, her body pressed against his own and he suddenly forgot why exactly he’d brought her in there to begin with.

In the wake of everything that had occurred between them, he’d forgotten what it felt like to _be_ with her. She tasted like stale caf and something sweet he didn’t recognize. She was _warm,_ and soft, and pliant, and nothing in the world felt better than the softness of her skin against his own.

“Unrestrain me,” she breathed against his lips.

“How do I know you won’t shoot me?” Her asked her, his forehead pressed against her own.

“You don’t,” she replied as he fumbled with the restraint. “Maybe I’ll kill you in this closet, steal your uniform, and steal your ship…assume your life.”

A soft hiss, followed by the dull thud of the stun cuffs hitting the ground slammed into his ears only seconds before her hands were on the back of his neck. He exhaled softly, all the relief from earlier flooding through his core.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he reminded her, pressing her hard against the side wall of the closet so he could kiss her without restraint. He knew he ought to be more skeptical of what was happening; after all, in their last meeting, he’d shot her and she’d called him stupid before she’d vanished with Poe, arguably the person he hated most in the Resistance, but in the moment, his hands tangled in her hair, her mouth slick against his own, he just didn’t _care._ Let the ship burn around him, he thought almost wildly. It didn’t matter. She still _wanted_ him, despite everything else.

“Who is the boss now?” He demanded, moments before he slid his tongue into her mouth. She groaned, hands frozen at the clasp of his pants as she rubbed up against him. Could she feel how inexplicably hard he was?

“Me,” she replied fiercely, undoing the button and reaching into his pants a second before his comm began chattering.

“General Hux, your presence—” He quieted it without question, unwilling to stop. His hand cupped her breast through thick fabric, eliciting another soft sigh from Ayva, right against his neck. It felt good to be wanted in this way, her hand wrapped around his cock, her mouth on his neck, panting softly, his name half strangled against her lips.

He yanked her hand off him just long enough to turn her around. It would be easier, he reasoned, considering how much shorter than him she was. She groaned again, this time in clearly protest, though she was quick enough to undo her belt and her own pants without being prompted. He ran his hand down the curve of her ass.

“Armitage!” She whispered, her voice almost a whine. He brushed the hair from her back over her shoulder, positioning himself carefully against her somehow soaking wet entrance. There was something strangely thrilling, he thought, one hand snaking around her middle, knowing that as far as she was concerned, she’d only ever been with him. Any other man would always have to her memory of being with him. 

He thrusted in at the thought, the two of them exhaling in time. He felt crazed, overly possessive. She _belonged_ to him. The walls of her body squeezed tight and hot around him, grinding all other. thought to a brutal halt. All he knew was the feel of her skin slapping against his own and the four walls of the closet they were in. Pressure began building immediately in his cock, threatening to end things quicker than he wanted, if he wasn’t careful. She was so slick, so warm, it was like coming home after being away too long.

The cackling of his comm distracted him only long enough to slide a hand between her thighs. They had to do this quicker, he thought, though all sense of self-preservation was still out the window. She leaned her head against the hand he was using to brace himself, biting the flesh of her forearms softly as she panted.

“Don’t stop,” she murmured, face obscured by the angle, the darkness, and her falling hair. He wished he could see her.

“Who’s the boss?” He asked as she tightened around him rhythmically. She was close.

“You are,” she moaned seconds before her teeth sank back into his skin and she came with a soft, high pitched whine. He was right behind her, the pressure erupting like steam from a kettle. He held himself inside her, face buried in the back of her neck, his muscles cramping from the awkward position.

“Stay with me,” he whispered into her hair as she tried to catch her breath.

“SIR!” The sound of a voice on his comm shattered the sense of peace between them. He slid out of her as Ayva hastily began pulling her clothes back up.

“Yes?” He demanded, turning the sound back on.

“We have intercepted two Resistance spies aboard the ship,” the exasperated voice of one of his lieutenants stated. Ayva unholstered her blaster in a moment, though to his relief she didn’t point it at him. The only light came from a crack beneath the door, making her impossible to see clearly, though he stared her down all the same.

“To what purpose?” He asked.

“It appears they were attempting to disable our tracking.”

“I will be right there.”

“And sir,” the voice added as Ayva’s blaster lifted. “The resistance has begun deploying escape pods toward a local planet. How would you like us to proceed?”

“Destroy them,” he instructed, wincing slightly when the high-pitched whine of Ayva’s cocked blaster began ringing through his ears.

“Take it back,” she demanded.

“I’ll walk out of this closet,” he replied placidly, well aware that though she’d brought the Resistance scum onto his ship while intending to distract him, he held all the cards. “You can take my ship and meet me anywhere in the galaxy you like. It’s over, Ayva. It’s time to acknowledge defeat.”

“You can’t defeat an idea, Armitage,” Ayva replied with clear exasperation. “You will be fighting this battle for the rest of your life, even if you kill us all today.”

He frowned, unsure what she meant. More importantly, “I have no intention of killing you today.”

“We’re kind of a package deal,” Ayva said, her hand on the handle of the closet. She was unrestrained, he realized. He grabbed his own blaster, aiming it seconds before the door flung open and she rolled out, dodging the blast.

“Are you _really_ going to shoot me _again?!”_ She demanded; her face illuminated under the harsh lighting of the Finalizer. She looked more herself, her cheeks flushed, her lips red and slightly swollen. Even her hair seemed bouncier. 

“I’d do _far worse_ to keep you,” he snarled, following after her. She dodged another blast, though she didn’t return fire. “There’s no where you can go, Ayva.”

Her eyes darted toward a control panel on the wall.

“NO--!” He yelled, taking two steps forward in an attempt to prevent her from throwing up the laser gate but he wasn’t quick enough. She shot the panel, sending a shimmering red barrier up between them.

She flashed him a pretty smile. “I wonder what happens if I beat you to Finn and Rose.”

“AYVA!” He all but screamed at her retreating back. He’d have to go the long way around. Who knew what kind of trouble she’d get into in the interim.

_Catch her before Ren does._

If she beat him to the hangar where former trooper FN-2187 and the girl Ayva called Rose were being held, she was hiding. His shoes echoed against pristine, white floors and he flexed his fingers, hidden beneath wrist length gloves. He wanted to enjoy this moment, knowing he’d all but won, but Ayva’s presence somewhere on his ship haunted him. What was she doing?

From the view port, he watched one of the Resistance escape crafts explode into nothing more than space dust and shrapnel. He was so close to getting everything he wanted.

At the end of the perfect rows of troopers, Phasma held FN-2187 and Rose, both restrained on their knees.

“Good work, Phasma,” he praised, looking at the pair with a curious expression. Ayva had brought them, clearly novices. Was this another trick, he wondered? He turned his back to look back out the view port, one of his officers just behind him. The Resistance cruiser was turning slowly, it’s pointed bow nearly pointed at them.

“You won’t win!” Rose, the dark-haired woman at his feet, snarled. Was it a prerequisite of the Resistance to have such a firey spirit, he wondered?

“Sir,” his officer spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “The cruiser is preparing to jump to light speed.”

“A distraction,” he replied, hands behind his back. “It’s empty. They’re trying to pull our attention. Pathetic. Keep your fire on the transports.”

He nodded to Phasma, stepping away from Rose and FN-2187.

“Execution by blaster fire is too good for them,” Phasma stated. “Let’s make this hurt. On my command.”

He turned his attention fully to the view port as simultaneously, three things happened. The Resistance cruiser wasn’t just planning to jump to light speed. It was planning to jump as it moved toward them, ripping their ship in half.

“FIRE ON THAT CRUISER!” He yelled at Peavey as Ayva exploded in from the back, diverting the attention of his troopers from FN-2187 and Rose to herself. Using the distraction to his advantage, FN-2187 reached for Phasma’s weapon. The last thing he saw was Ayva, her blonde hair a halo around her beautiful face, blaster aimed. She was looking right at him, screaming but the words were lost in the air. He meant to order his men to stand down, but he blinked, and there was just blackness.

For a moment, Hux thought it was all a fever dream. He’d dreamt the entire thing, the Resistance, the First Order, Ayva, all of it. He was still on Arkanis with his mother, waiting for her to finish work so they could go home. He wanted to run through puddles and splatter mud all over the concrete path while she urged him to behave. It was _always_ raining on Arkanis and there was _always_ mud. Shouldn’t he be allowed to have a little fun?

He wanted to see her. He opened an eye, and then another, waiting to see blue eyes and red hair looking back at him. Instead, all he could see was Ayva’s face, hovering above him. He was dead, he decided. Why, then, were his ears ringing? And why was her face bleeding?

Pain jolted him back to the fiery reality he was now inhabiting. The Finalizer was destroyed, he realized, looking around him.

“You have to get out of here,” she shouted, ducking slightly when a beam came crashing down beside them.

“This is your fault!” He yelled, bewildered as she pulled him to his feet. Nothing made sense; if this had been her plan all along, why come at all? He’d have never believed it possible, with or without her.

The shock on her face made him think she’d been unaware this would happen, too. He swung, missing her by inches. Reflexively, and perhaps because she was less injured than he was, she kicked him back to the floor.

“I _told you!”_ She yelled, blaster back in hand, pointed straight at him. He felt unchained; what was stopping him from doing whatever he wanted? All the lines of their relationship were blurred beyond recognition. He kicked her hard in the shin, sending her to the floor with him. He reached for her but whatever training Ayva had gotten did not follow the accepted rules of hand-to-hand combat. She elbowed him hard, catching him beneath the jaw, clearly aiming for his throat.

“You’re not _leaving,”_ he all but snarled as fire and debris rained around them. He caught a fistful of her hair, dragging her as he pulled himself upward. Ayva twisted her body, catching him in his still bruised ribs. He released her hair with a gasp as she scrambled upward, grabbing her ankle forcing her to hit the floor so hard heard the skid of her palms on the slick floor above the crackling and splintering ship around them.

He climbed atop her to pin her hands above her head and Ayva squirmed, her face twisted in anger. A half-feral scream escaped her lips as her wrist slipped from his grasp and her fist connected with his cheek.

“You _belong_ here, with _me,”_ he panted, narrowly avoiding a knee to the chest. The move knocked him off her body and the two both were on their feet, faces inches apart. Was this the woman he’d just been buried to the hilt in, catching his fist as she tried to escape him?

Ayva took off, running from the hangar with him just at her heels. He caught her arm, spinning her around even though it meant another elbow to the face.

“You can’t _force me here!”_ She shouted, slipping out of grasp. For the second time that day, she used a laser gate to create a barrier between them. He screamed in rage.

“I’ll KILL YOU!” He shouted at her, the only thing he could think of. Why did she have to be so _difficult?_

“You won’t,” she shot back, her own face reflecting the fury he felt. “You _can’t.”_ Her words felt like a taunt.

In that moment, he disagreed. “I will _hunt you down,”_ he promised. “There is _nowhere_ you can hide from me.”

She took a step backwards, holstering her blaster. “It’s over, Armitage. Look around you. Is this how you want to live the rest of your life?”

“It’s not over!”

“It is!” She shrieked, stepping forward again until only the thin laser gate separated them. He might have reached out and caressed her face if he felt so inclined.

“You will _always_ lose.”

“Because of your winning ideals?” He asked, recalling what she said in the supply closet.

All her rage vanished, replaced with pity. It only served to make him angrier.

“You think the idea you can’t kill is success?” She asked, shaking her head as she stepped back again. “It’s _hope,_ Armitage. Hope. As long as the galaxy has hope, you’ll never win.”

He opened his mouth to retort but a familiar brunette skidded into view at the end of the hall. The scavenger, come to the rescue. Her timing was uncanny, and it signaled something far more important. If she was here, it was likely Ren was dead.

“Ayva?” She asked with her heavy Jakku accent. “Poe sent me—”

He didn’t need to hear anymore. Ayva always went skittering back to Poe. He walked off without a backwards glance, if for no other reason than to conceal his pain.


	28. Graveyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brave new world

_They say I may be making a mistake_

_I would've followed all the way, no matter how far_

_I know when you go down all your darkest roads_

_I would've followed all the way to the graveyard_

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

There was a heaviness to the air at the admission that nothing special had saved them. In the end, the Resistance survived on more luck than skill and they survived alone. Even Szábo was placated for one, his typical self-righteous demeanor mollified for the moment. No one came for them, they'd been on their own and who were Szábo and Baume to say they'd done it badly? Of course they had, but Ayva didn't think they could have done it better, either. 

"What kept you going?" Baume asked Ayva, her voice more soft sigh than anything else.

Ayva looked down at the wood grain on the table in front of her, her fingers thrumming a beat born of instinct and not memory. Ayva took a deep breath, terrified of how close to the end they were getting. Close to a decision. 

\--

\---

\--

Hope was the umbrella under which everything else lived. Without it, Ayva knew she’d have given up long before that moment, speeding away from Crait. She was tucked into a seat, pressed between the wall of the ship and Poe, her head on his shoulder as they raced toward a new home, somewhere far from the eyes of First Order. There was no window from which to stare out and too much personal misery surrounding her to focus on her immediate environment, so Ayva drew inward, thinking of the absolute feral man she was leaving behind.

Sometimes all Ayva had was her hope. Armitage lacked even that, and without the overarching belief things could get better, he was left adrift without anything to cling to. Ayva willed herself not to care; how many times had she begged him to come with her, and how often had he rebuked her? Hadn’t she known this was always how it would go?

 _Maybe,_ a small voice whispered, _But you still had hope._

“Are you alright?” Poe asked Ayva, interrupting her thoughts. He seemed different, too, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Are you?” She shot back, well aware Poe’s attempted mutiny would have consequences for them all. Perhaps that was the reason for his softness, she thought. He’d led the charge, and though Ayva had no intention of letting Poe take the fall alone, Leia would certainly hold him accountable in ways she might not hold the rest of them. Poe was the Commander, after all.

“A lot of death,” Poe breathed out, his words hitching in his throat. “When I was moving, I didn’t have to think about it but…”

“But now there’s nothing left to do but think,” she supplied, resting a hand on his exposed forearm.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Did we even _do_ anything?”

She twisted her neck so she could look up at him. “I don’t know.”

“The galaxy heard us…but they didn’t come. Maybe…maybe we lost.”

“We didn’t,” Ayva insisted, though privately she thought he might be right. What _had_ they really done, in the scheme of things. “We…we destroyed Starkiller, and we took out just as many of them as they took of us.”

“It feels hopeless,” Poe said with a sigh, his head pressed against her own.

“It does,” she agreed. “But tomorrow it’ll feel better.”

They settled on Ajan Kloss the humid, forested moon of Ajara. They hid in the klosslands, utilizing the large cave system, as well as the _Tantive IV_ , Leia’s personal consular ship. Poe took his remaining squadron to bring back the troop transport ship _Fortitude_ and got to work repairing the remaining ships in their fleet.

Rose and Finn began working on security, vanishing into the larger galaxy to set up listening points and attempt to recruit planets, diplomats, politicians, and anyone with influence into helping them. It was a risky venture. Newly anointed Kylo Ren was on the war path, determined to wipe them out with a zeal that made Hux seem tame by comparison.

For her part, Ayva began the work of fortifying their base and training their navy. With so few of them left, no one could be a specialist. Everyone had to be a generalist. Poe worked to train what little ground forces remained to be star pilots with just as much success. Like Rey, Ayva preferred to stay put, unwilling to risk capture in the wider galaxy. Though Rey and Ayva had never openly spoke about meeting on the Finalizer, Ayva knew Rey must have guessed what was happening between her and Hux, just as Ayva could sense that Rey was tied up in knots over dark sider Ren. Ayva often wondered if Ren obsession with the Resistance betrayed an obsession with Rey and not the Resistance itself, though she’d never ask.

With every passing day, Poe would seek Ayva out and tell her, “Still feels hopeless.”

And in response, Ayva would tell him, “Tomorrow will feel better.”

At first, they’d meet exhausted, collapsing into bunks and passing out, their faces worn from their lack of sleep. It was weeks before the way Poe walked shifted, from heavy plodding to lighter springs. Ayva started running in the mornings again, though it took her almost a week before she realized she’d done it because it felt good and not as some automatic habit. Poe met her with a smile, and she smiled, too, and without even noticing, hope returned not just to Ayva and Poe, but to the Resistance as a whole.

It was dangerous to feel it again. With the renewed sense of hope came the belief that anything could happen, and it made everyone just a little more reckless. Finn had been spotted more than once on missions, and Poe took fewer precautions, hoping to take out some of the First Order as retribution.

To that end, Ayva decided to take risk. Hoping that Hux was still banned from Nar Shadda and Hutt space in general, Ayva darted off to meet Grakkus the Hutt who, much like her, had a First Order problem he needed some assistance with. Unlike Ayva, Grakkus also had a proto type for a weapon she wanted to build but had not been successful as of yet. Blasters that worked like rocket launchers had long been her dream. It was rumored Grakkus had one and Ayva was hoping to offer a trade. She’d eliminate the First Order’s presence on Nar Shadda and in return, Grakkus would pay her with the weapon.

Nar Shadda, much like Coruscant, was another planet wide city, though that was the similarities ended. Nar Shadda made Coruscant look like a sparkling paradise, practically a utopia in its set up. No one but perhaps Grakkus himself, who had a palace, was doing well on Nar Shadda, as far as Ayva could tell, anyway. Boxy buildings that seemed to be standing up out of pure spite, were built to resemble slums that never ended. Ayva kept her weapons on display, a warning to the bounty hunters, villainy, and general scum that seemed to gleefully inhabit the planet. Everything was an opportunity and Ayva knew she might look like one too, if she didn’t make her intentions clear.

She stepped into a cantina as though these were the types of places she frequented often. Vaguely, she wondered if her father could see her from whatever hell he was stuck in. How far she’d fallen, she thought wryly as she ordered a spice brew. A brown helmeted bounty hunter sitting at the bar tilted their head toward her but other than that small interaction and paying the bartender, no one paid her any mind even as she slid into a booth.

All Hutt’s employed a majordomo and Grakkus was no different. Glie Darap, Twi’lek for stone axe, was the majordomo for Grakkus and Ayva was curious to know if the name had been given to the Twi’lek intentionally or if it was merely a deterrent, given to all Grakkus’s majordomos. As she sipped, a white skinned male Twi’lek slid toward her, his pink eyes laser focused on her face.

“Ayva Bardak,” he breathed, sitting across her in the booth. “In the flesh.”

Poe had given Ayva advice on how to handle a Hutt. Majordomo’s flattered first and Poe told Ayva to lean into it without trusting it as sincerity. In that sense, Ayva understood it well. There was little difference in the practice of the majordomo and the elite of Coruscant.

She offered what she hoped was her prettiest smile. “I’m so grateful you made time for me.”

Glie waved a hand, though the curiosity burning in his eyes was unsettling. “Your reputation precedes you, even on our humble planet.”

“What reputation is that?” She asked, wondering if it was her last name or the rumor, she’d helped destroy Starkiller base.

“Bardak’s daughter on Nar Shadda,” Glie breathed, his voice taking on a nasally, unpleasant quality that grated against her skin. “Are you considering a change of careers?”

“Perhaps,” she replied easily. “I heard your lord has trouble I’m familiar with.”

Glie leaned back in his seat, his placid face darkening. “The First Order pollutes everything they touch,” he told her, as though there was anything on Nar Shadda that wasn’t already corrupted. “Despite the sovereignty of Hutt space, they presume to build a tower to surveil not just Nar Shadda, but Nal Hutta as well. It’s a scandal.”

Ayva nodded her head. “They truly don’t know their place, but I believe I could help you with the First Order.”

That interested Glie. “You are aware of your…wanted…status among the First Order, yes?”

Ayva resisted an eye roll, offering a shrug instead. “Sometimes in this line of work, you make a couple enemies.”

He waved a hand. “You’ll do this out of the kindness of your heart…?”

“I take payment, like everyone else,” she replied, her own tone sharpening “A weapon Grakkus possesses.”

Glie nodded knowingly. “The blaster, I presume?”

Ayva gave a small nod of her head.

“And if I can’t arrange it?”

“I’ll call Poe Dameron and he can take over negotiations for payment.”

Glie’s upper lip curled. “Mr. Dameron lives, then?”

“He does, and he sends his best to your master.”

“You destroy the tower, then, Ayva Bardak, and I will get your weapon.”

There was a fifty-fifty chance that Glie actually lived up to his agreement. It was just as likely they turned her over to the First Order, which was why Ayva hadn’t really come alone. Poe, Finn, Rose, and Rey were all hidden around Nar Shadda, watchful as Ayva made her deal.

Glie rose, leaving Ayva to finish her drink alone.

“Did he accept?” Poe asked in her ear when Ayva stood, too, walking toward the exit.

“Of course he did. It’s too good to pass up,” she replied from the side of her mouth, stepping onto the street. 

“I don’t like the look of him,” Finn muttered.

“Well, that’s because he’s a _liar,”_ Poe replied easily. “Who’d sell you out for a couple credits.”

“Do you two _mind?”_ Rey interrupted with some irritability. “This isn’t for chatter.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Finn said to giggles from Poe.

“Finn!” Rose chided to more soft laughter from the boys. Ayva didn’t mind either, though it _was_ a little distracting. She had no idea where her friends were though she was comforted knowing they at least had her back. Ayva had to make her way from Hutta City, the section for Nar Shadda she’d landed in, toward the sleek, overtly conspicuous tower and the far edge of the city. The fact the First Order had managed to install this without everyone involved being shot was a feat in and of itself. It was twice as large as any of the buildings that existed on Nar Shadda, making it easy to navigate towards.

“What are the odds we’re in and out?” Ayva asked, weaving in and out of the crowd, keeping her eyes forward without looking at anyone.

“Bad,” Poe admitted. “Nothing ever goes right out here. There’s probably fifteen bounty hunters calling you in as we speak.”

“Pryde wouldn’t dare,” Finn disagreed.

“War with the Hutt’s is winnable,” Rose replied quickly.

“War with the Hutts is _not_ winnable,” Poe disagreed. “Hutts are the cockroaches of the galaxy; kill ten and twenty more will come back. I wouldn’t put it past Pryde to try, though.”

“Let’s just get this done,” Ayva muttered. “And worry about the rest later.”

She darted down another street, her boots heavy on the burning asphalt. Up ahead, the smoggy atmosphere added to the heat, and for the first time, Ayva longed for the humidity of Ajan Kloss.

“Can I just cut cable lines?” Ayva asked as she approached the tower.

“I’m on my way, right behind you,” Rose replied, appearing at Ayva’s side. Ayva jerked slightly when she saw Rose.

“You surprised me,” Ayva breathed as both women approached the sleek durasteel tower.

“Blowing this up is going to be messy,” Rose mentioned, touching the tower. “But there are no cables to cut…no building to go into…just a tower beaming information somewhere into the galaxy.”

Ayva felt a pang, imagining a stream of information to wherever Armitage was hiding. What was he doing, she wondered, slinging her bag to the front of her body?

“Let’s disrupt it?” Ayva suggested.

“So the First Order can repair it?” Finn asked in her ear. “Just blow it up.”

“You better hurry, whatever you decide!” Poe interrupted, his voice filled with worry.

“Incoming First Order,” Rey added.

Ayva yanked out an ion bomb and stuck it against of the four, spidery legs. “Go, I’ll catch up. Get Poe ready, okay?”

Rose didn’t need to be told twice; they’d practiced for every contingency and no one wanted to be caught by the First Order, but especially as a group. Ayva attached three more bombs to each leg.

“Bombs away,” she sighed, aware she was going to take out several of the buildings nearby. There was no help for it, though she imagined it was going to hurt her chances for that weapon with Grakkus. Personally, Ayva thought a little reconstruction, even if happened forcefully, might be good for Nar Shadda.

“Stupid!” A deep, modulated voice yelled, grabbing her by the upper arm moments before she hit the ignition button. It was the bounty hunter from the cantina, she realized, crushed between his body and a nearby buildings. She heard the explosion; she could feel the heat from the flames licking against her skin.

“Stupid is my first and last name,” she informed the interloper, shoving his armored body off her own.

“Etch it on your tombstone,” he shot back, his expression unreadable, hidden beneath a boxy looking helmet with what looked like bantha horns on either side, scaled down for aesthetics and not functionality. “When the First Order comes for you.”

“Why do _you_ care, exactly?” She asked, pushing past him to jog down the filthy alley way. He kept pace.

“I always care when someone brings the First Order down on me.”

“Feel free to…scamper off, then.”

He tilted his helmet toward her. “Did you get your weapon?”

She looked at him with faux outrage. “Were you _eavesdropping?”_

“Who are you talking to?” Poe demanded in her ear. “Will you hurry up?”

“I picked up a new recruit,” Ayva replied, glancing at the large man next to her.

“Who are you talking to?” He demanded, voice modulated. “I’m not joining _you.”_

The pair turned a corner, straight into Pryde, who was leading a small contingent of Stormtroopers down the filthy streets of Nar Shadda.

“My lucky day,” Pryde commented, his blue eyes wide with surprise.

“So much for my payment,” Ayva muttered with a sigh.

“Stun her,” Pryde instructed as Ayva grabbed her blaster with a futility born from instinct and not hope. “Kill the bounty hunter.”

She heard a soft sigh emanate from the bounty hunter’s modulator. He grabbed her around the waist as a grappling line shot from the vambrace around his wrist. They shot upward just as blasters fired, though Ayva managed to get one good kick right under the chin of Pryde.

“Always wanted to do that,” she admitted when they landed hard on a building top.

“Fly?” He asked with open incredulity.

“No, kick Pryde in the face.”

The dark helmet tilted toward her again. “Your priorities are bad.”

She shrugged, jumping in time with him from one roof top to the other, toward the millennium falcon that hovered in the distance. “Are you coming with?”

“Not on your life, rebel,” he replied breathlessly. She skittered to a stop, despite the danger.

“Then why help?”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“Ah, of course, that _famed_ bounty hunter chivalry.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, unbothered. Behind her, the ramp of the Falcon was descending.

“You could come with, you know. We could use more bodies.”

“Maybe next time,” he replied, pulling something from the heavy utility belt slung across her waist. He tossed it to her, a small chip.

“For next time, when you need help.”

 _“If,_ you mean.”

“When.”

She took two steps backwards, her brow furrowed. “Why, though?”

He turned his back wordlessly, leaving her to make her hasty escape without him.

Inside the Falcon, Rose descended with curious eyes. “Who was _that?”_ She demanded as the ship zipped into the atmosphere. Ayva looked back, though there were no windows to see out of.

“No idea.”


	29. Where The Skies End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short part 2 to chapter 28

_These aren't the dreams of our fathers, there'll be no wishing on stars_

_We are the sons and the daughters; let them come test who we are._

_\--_

_\---_

_\--_

Armitage Hux waited until Pryde vanished to walk down the streets of Nar Shadda in the open. Night had fallen, though the streets were practically emptied; no one wanted to be under the surveillance of the First Order. There would be hell to pay for this little stunt. He’d warned Pryde he couldn’t take the rebels on Nar Shadda and the Hutt’s would make them pay dearly, both for installing the tower _and_ attempting to capture someone in Hutt space. He knew the cost of violating the terms of sovereign Hutt space but Pryde was arrogant, certain he could capture Bardak and what had he gotten for his efforts?

Ren’s wrath definitely. Gloating from Hux, who knew how to run this enterprise, not that anyone _cared_ anymore. He’d been demoted in all ways but name, practically an errand boy. He was supposed to be hunting down the never-ending stream of army deserters. Instead, he stalked the streets of Nar Shadda, looking for the man he wanted to see.

He considered killing Grakkus for his part in this little plot. Hux was well aware of the scheming Pryde had done with the Hutt, luring Ayva onto the planet with the promise of weaponry, although the weaponry was _supposed_ to be liquid dioxide, easily transportable, highly flammable. Ayva, instead, came for something so insignificant that Pryde would surely overlook it: blasters that functioned like rocket launchers. In retrospect, Hux felt stupid for not realizing that would be the prize she’d want.

He kicked open the door of Glie Darap, recoiling at the pure excess that surrounded the man. He might as well have been back in Coruscant, for all the gold and marble Glie had imported in, his home so garishly decorated it almost defied belief. Glie was a magpie, Hux thought, his foot aching from the force it’d taken to kick in the heavy door. Glie cowered when he saw Hux step in, like the sniveling scum he was.   
“You have no right to be here,” the milky Twi’lek insisted, back pressed against a gold leaf wall.

“And yet here I am,” Hux replied coolly. “The weapon you promised the rebel. Give it to _me.”_

“You don’t understand the deal,” Glie continued, glued to the wall. “It—”

“I don’t care,” Hux interrupted. “Give me the weapon.”

Glie sized him up, looking for opportunity. Hux put a gloved finger on the trigger of his blaster, his final warning. Glie, at last, seemed to understand the only way out was through compliance, though in truth it was too late. Hux was already wanted here in Hutt space; what did it matter if he killed a majordomo or not?

Glie tossed him the blaster, smaller than he’d expected yet heavier than it looked. Exactly what she wanted. He felt a slight thrill at the thought of possessing something she wanted.

“His lord Grakkus—”

“Fuck Grakkus,” Hux said without emotion.

Glie was silenced with a quick shot to the head. Hux watched the Twi’lek fall to the ground with a thud. Glie Darap, _stone axe._ He almost laughed. All Grakkus’s majordomos were named Glie Darap. Someday, he thought, stepping back out the door he’d come from, one of them would earn the name.

As he walked back to his ship, he caught sight of his reflection in a smudged window reflection. He’d never get used to seeing himself out of uniform, he thought, taking in the brown material of his new, armored uniform. He was almost a little disappointed she didn’t catch him out immediately. Had she not caught the bantha horns, a native animal to Tatooine? He’d put them there intentionally, a call back to her silly ramblings of owning a ronto shack on the planet, back when she was still talking to him.

Perhaps it was better that she didn’t. If she had, it meant Pryde might catch him too, the last thing he needed as he straddled these two worlds. Besides, it had been nice to see her again, this time actively helping her instead of working against her, even if she didn’t know it.

He made his way to his little Coruscant-style Blade ship, once in vogue when the first version of the Republic existed. They no longer made them and Hux had gotten the busted, chrome plated ship for a steal, refurbishing it himself when he should have been out hunting deserters. It was practically new, except for the exterior which he left rough on purpose. It added to his new persona if it was beaten up hunk of junk on the outside, though he couldn’t resist tinkering with its machinery. He’d forgotten how much he liked _technology,_ taking things apart just to rebuild them better than they’d been. It was something he’d done often as a child, before his father realized it was a weaponizable skill.

He vanished from Nar Shadda, hurtling to Arkanis where he’d swap out his clothing and ship for his First Order life. As he thought about this swap, gloomy at the thought when his data pad vibrated. He pulled it out, still looking through the world through the red heat vision view port of his helmet.

Ayva had taken the chip and put it in her own data pad, he realized, staring down at the message.

_Hey new recruit. Thanks for saving my skin back there. I owe you._

His nerves vanished and the urge to respond almost overtook him. What would bounty hunter Armitage say, he wondered?

_Repay it; send supplies to Cophrigin V. A camp of deserted troopers are there._

There was a beat while he waited almost breathless for a response. If the Resistance started sending supplies, too, it would free him up to track down more and bring them to the sanctuary camp on Cophrigin V instead of having to discreetly collect supplies to be delivered.

_You got it recruit._

She was teasing him he knew, but it still felt _good_ to be on the receiving end of her teasing, even if she didn’t know it was _him._ He didn’t respond to her, not because he didn’t want to but because he was terrified if he said too much, she’d realize it _was_ him. Ayva knew him best and he was positive if he let his guard down, she’d see right through the armor and the helmet and find him underneath.

He sighed, her blaster in his lap. This was his mess.

He’d have to clean it up alone


End file.
